


Kissing Lessons

by eyeslikerain



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types
Genre: Armand is single and sort of gay, Capri gate, I'm obsessed with this suit, M/M, gay enough, much needed kissing lessons after pr disaster, the silver Venice suit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-10-17
Packaged: 2020-10-17 06:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 31,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20616269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeslikerain/pseuds/eyeslikerain
Summary: „So, how do we fix this? Do I have to practice with a doll under your direction?“ Armand couldn‘t avoid a chuckle.





	1. Kissing 101/ First lesson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChunkMonk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChunkMonk/gifts).

> For rainbowdazzle - thanks for your prompt. It was a joy to write!
> 
> kissinglessons on tumblr

„Dr Hammer? There is a Mr Swardstrom with your new client.“

„Thanks, Betsey.“ Armand Hammer got up, closed the button of his jacket and nodded to his secretary. She held the door open for a lanky, tall young man in jeans and sneakers. His pale face was hidden by a cap and masses of dark curls, and he avoided to look Dr Hammer into the eyes.

„Good morning, Mr Chalamet.“ A mumbled, not very enthusiastic „Hi“ was the response. Armand Hammer was puzzled for a moment – the kid should be out of puberty by now, shouldn‘t he? Well, he could deal with all kinds of behaviour. Nothing new here.

The actor was followed by a beaming, cultivated elderly gentleman, obviously intent on making Armand comfortable, gloss over the rude greeting of his client and bring a bit of cheer into the grey New York autumn day. He tried too hard. You didn‘t need to have studied psychology to realize that. He pumped Armand‘s hand vigorously, trying at the same time to keep the large paper cup of coffee in his other hand safe, and smiled broadly:

„Great of you to have us worked in on short notice, Dr Hammer. We sure appreciate it.“ Another flash of his carefully whitened teeth. „Now, Timmy, here‘s your coffee“ - he handed the cup to the young man who looked disinterestedly out of the window, shoulders hunched - „I‘ll pick you up in 90 minutes. There‘s a good boy!“ Timothée took the cup and grunted something. Mr Swardstrom turned confidentially and much too close towards Dr Hammer and whispered audibly:

„You got the material?“

Dr Hammer nodded.

„Also those comments under the Daily Mail piece?“

Another nod, this time with raised eyebrows. Mr Swardstrom uncrossed his arms over his jacket plus pullover-combo and leaned in even closer:

„Nasty thing. Let‘s clean it up, shall we?“

Dr. Hammer nodded, raised a hand for a last greeting and closed the door behind Timothée‘s agent. A PR-person through and through, Armand thought. He turned around to look for his client. Timothée seemed immensly interested in the Manhattan skyline. He watched the view intently, without turning to Armand, and sipped occasionally from his coffee. Silence. Armand could take this. He decided to give his reluctant client all the time he needed. Finally, he heard a big sigh and an astonishingly deep voice asked wearily:

„So, how do we fix this? Do I have to practice with a doll under your direction?“ Armand couldn‘t avoid a chuckle. Timothée turned his head. He frowned and said, even more sullen:

„Don‘t tell me you‘ll bring in a real chick.“

„Of course not, Mr Chalamet. For this kind of, ahem, personal and intimate practice, your agent should have taken you to a different institution. I‘m here to talk to you about – well, intimacy, bodily intimacy, how we feel if we want to touch someone...“

Timothée flared up:

„Are you a fucking shrink? Because I don‘t need one! The studio can control when I get my teeth cleaned and how I keep my weight, but they can‘t make me bare my soul! For Chrissake!“

Armand stayed calm: 

„I‘m no shrink. Though, I‘m a sort of doctor. You can talk to me openly, ask anything you‘d like, and everything you say is strictly confidential.“

„You won‘t tell Brian?“

„Of course not. I‘m here to help you.“

„That‘s what everyone is saying“, Timothée muttered bitterly. „He said so when he arranged for those damned pictures. All for my sake. For my career‘s sake. And look what happened.“

He turned his back to Armand again and nursed his coffee. Armand cleared his throat and leaned onto his desk. Waiting for a further invitation to speak, he took in the slight frame, the narrow shoulders of the actor. He had seen him in various movies, of course, but was almost moved how fragile and skinny he looked. He had a lot to bear, and not yet the physique for it. Time would help, but right now - 

„You saw the pictures, I guess.“

Armand nodded.

„Read the comments on the Daily Mail?“

„Yes.“

„Well.“ Timothée groaned and was silent again. „It backfired badly. You see, all this charade was staged to clear my image from a certain film. Brian wanted it. Said it was time to move on, gain a different sort of fans. Now, the links are more solid than ever, as you know. It‘s PR-Armageddon.“

Armand tried a sympathetic grunt, but Timothée flashed him a dark, angry look:

„And we might have to do it again! And if I don‘t convince...“ His voice trailed off. He seemed genuinely troubled. „You see, I want to do this. I really do. Make films, I mean. Be good. Be special. I‘m willing to work hard. I had to take piano lessons, I do my own stunts, I lost weight – fine, I see why. But I always thought I‘d know how to kiss. This is not only embarrassing but somehow – devastating. On a personal level.“

He crumpled the papercup violently in his hands. His eyes skittered around the room in search of a trash bin. Armand offered his hand and took the smashed cup. 

„Nobody doubts your ability to kiss. You gave ample proof of that in the movie you mentioned. The challenge we should work on is rather: how to kiss someone you are not totally comfortable with – correct me if I‘m wrong – and look convincing at the same time. See it as a sort of acting lesson. You might benefit from it not only for similar, well, situations that might arise, but also for your professional life as an actor.“

Timothée looked straight into his eyes for the first time since he had entered the office and held his gaze a second too long. Armand knew this reaction. He was used to people being struck by his cornflower blue eyes. First, Timothée allowed him the tiniest glimpse into his feelings, now he searched for a connection. They were on to something. Armand‘s tactic to let the client do the talking had proved right once again.

Timothée had left the windows, ambled aimlessly around the office, inspecting the books on his shelves and the small objets d‘art he liked to collect. The room was tastefully and expensively furnished. The walls glowed in the softest pale grey-blue. The bookshelves were made from reddish cherry wood. A small seating area with two comfortable chairs and a low desk with yellow dahlias on it usually had an inviting effect on visitors, but not today. After one seemingly secretive glance at Armand, Timothée let himself fall into Armand‘s large leather swivel chair behind the desk, took off his cap, fluffed his curls with one elegant white hand and asked:

„So, who are you? What do you do? I expected a sort of – porn set. Candles, red velvet and chaise-longues, you know. And you as my tongue-wrestling partner?“

Armand laughed openly:

„No. Sorry to disappoint you. No wrestling here. It‘s all theory we do.“

Timothée swivelled back and forth in the chair:

„You are not sleeping with people in here?“

„Good lord, no.“

„What does a sexologist do then?“

„We curate, collect data, do research, look for the missing links in the history of, well, sexual practices and culture over the centuries.“

„What for? Isn‘t sex for – I mean – just going for it? Do you have to talk about it?“

„Yes, you do. See, we do it. Seems a topic worth losing some words about. Sexology is on the crossroads of medicine. Anthropology. History. Cultural history. Women‘s studies. Health studies...“

„I get it“, Timothée had given the chair one last good swing, turned around completely once and stopped it with his feet. „Not as exciting as I thought, then.“ He looked at Armand under his long lashes. 

„Sorry to disappoint you.“

Timothée got up and looked closely over the books behind the desk. Armand turned a bit, changed one long leg on the desk and looked at the hunched shoulders of the actor.

„That your‘s?“, he held up a book he had found: „From Private to Public: A Brief History of Kissing“. Armand nodded, as usually too modest if it came to his own publications. Timothee mumbled: „Well, quite the expert, I see. About going public, I mean.“ Armand felt the pain in his words.

„Who is Magnus Hirschfeld?“, he asked, taking another volume off the shelve.

„He lived and did research in Berlin. Was forbidden by the Nazis, which is always a sign for good or interesting literature.“

Timothée had opened the book randomly and seemed captured by an illustration. He remained silent, his eyes intent on the page, until he suddenly asked: 

„This is not about kissing, is it?“

„Right.“

„Is it still in print?“

Armand chuckled again. The kid was entertaining. „It is, as a matter of fact. But I‘m not sure this is the direction Mr. Swardstrom had hoped for...“

„Why don‘t you tell me more about this Mr Hirschfeld and we tell Brian we talked about kissing all the time?“ An irresistible, conspirational smile bedazzled Armand. From utmost hostility to transference in just under fifteen minutes – if they progressed at that rate, heaven knows where they‘d end up. Armand got up, straightened his jacket and asked Timothée if he wouldn‘t like to take a seat. Timothée shook his head:

„Too nervous. This all makes me quite – you know.“

„Let me repeat: I‘m not here to judge you. Or condemn you. I‘m here to help you to be better prepared for the next time.“

Timothée groaned. „Now, let‘s see where to start.“ Armand fetched a yellow pad from his desk and scanned it with his eyes while slowly walking to one of the armchairs. He crossed his legs, opened his arms and looked at Timothée:

„What would help to make you feel more comfortable? Should the need ever arise again?“, he added quickly when Timothée rolled his eyes. He raised his head and scrutinized the ceiling, offering Armand a full view of his long, white neck. Sighing, he started:

„For once: I had my fair share of sun last summer. The last thing I needed was more sun. And the heat in Capri. Also, I hated being in swimming shorts. Again. I mean, I did a whole film in trunks. Nothing new to see. But I felt so – exposed, you know?

Armand nodded sympathetically and made some quick notes with a pencil.

„What kind of location would you have preferred?“

„Somewhere cool. Definitely. Foggy, even. I missed the fog in the desert. Something like – England maybe. The countryside around London...“

„Bad idea, Mr Chalamet“, Armand remarked drily. Timothée cursed softly and wrung his hands. But suddenly, he forgot all his pains and said sweetly:

„Call me Timmy, please.“

„My pleasure. I‘m Armand.“

„You‘re French?“

He shook his head: „Speaking of – the French girl.“

„Oh no!“ Timmy sighed loudly and angrily. „Ditch the location, the outfit – I can tolerate anything but this girl. Model. Actress“, he added ironically, twisting his fingers in the air.

„Sorry to intrude and you don‘t have to answer, but – she‘s not your type?“

Timmy glared at him: „Are you kidding?“

Timmy‘s anger hung palpably in the room. Armand added apologizingly:

„I‘m afraid there‘s not much to be done about that. Mr Swardstrom made it quite clear that the new film...“

„I know, I know. But – did they have to engage someone as cheap and attention-thirsty as her? You know the photos. Isn‘t it sickening how she helds her butt into the camera? I mean, frontal? And crawls around the boat on hands and knees? To say nothing of this ridiculous, cheap bikini.“

Armand sighed, leaned his chin into one hand and remarked:

„There are men who consider this mating behaviour arousing, Mr, ahem, Timmy.“

„Well, I don‘t“, he stated blandly. He hopped onto Armand‘s desk and dangled his feet nervously.

„I understand Mr Swardstrom considered it fitting to choose a female who fulfills a straight man‘s dreams, exceeds them even. The intention was to prove that you are...“

„Are you married?“, Timmy interrupted. Armand looked puzzled:

„No.“

„Oh, I see. I expected – I mean, knowing all about sex you should at least have a regular marital life.“

„What if I regard my own life as an unlimited study of human behaviour, especially pertaining to my field of interest, and don‘t want to limit myself yet to a monogamous relationship?“

„You mean you screw around?“

„Please!“

Timmy grinned:

„You certainly have the looks. How old are you?“

Armand blushed. Timmy grinned even more when sensing the other man‘s temporary insecurity.

„Would you please stop dangling your feet like that? You really are restless.“

„You didn‘t answer my question.“

Armand looked at his daring client: „I don‘t see why my age should matter. And speaking of age and time – our time is almost up. I‘m glad we managed to clear away your initial hostility and find a certain ground, a vocabulary, to work with. Your agent booked you again for tomorrow.“

„Oh, did he?“

Timmy had gotten up after Armand had done so himself. They faced each other. Timmy said seriously:

„Maybe you‘d be willing to open up a bit more tomorrow, Armand. Tell me a bit more about yourself. It certainly would facilitate our job.“

Armand was amused and annoyed at the same time. Ruthlessness of youth, he thought. Timmy pressed his cap onto his head and gave Armand a non-comittal wave. „Later“, Armand mumbled, while he watched his client leave the office. He needed to find out where the cute black sweater with the white pattern was from.


	2. An exemplary kiss/ Second lesson

The next morning, a completely changed Timothée bounced into Dr Hammer‘s office. Beaming like the sun outside that had won it‘s struggles with this morning‘s fog, he was wrangling two large take-out coffees and a bulging backpack. 

„Hi, how are you? Brought you some coffee!“ Timothée put one cup onto Dr Hammer‘s desk, handed him the other one and briefly slapped him on the arm. „Hi!“, he beamed again. Armand recognized the flashy, sociable creature the actor supposedly seemed to be with his fans. Yesterday, he had suspected this side of him was as much a staged persona as the other PR-stunts. He was almost a bit disappointed how early in life people are corrupted. But today he realized: this was the real Timothée. Good-natured, friendly, always ready for a laugh.

Timothée bounced up and down on his heels – Armand made a note to recommend either some relaxing practices or hard workout to the young actor as he clearly had too much energy – and groped for his heavy backpack again.

„Look what I got here, I‘m so excited!“ He looked around, eyed the wide windowsills, settled for the low coffeetable and threw his bag onto one of the armchairs. The grey-green backpack showed the logo of his next upcoming film in a strange old-fashioned font. Timothée opened it and started to pile books onto each other, dangerously close to the round bunch of dahlias. Armand joined him in the sitting corner to avoid damage to his furniture and upholstery and came just in time to catch a toppling pile. The books were shiny and glossy, obviously just bought.

„I popped into Barnes & Noble on my way here. You see, I read online about your Magnus Hirschfeld last night, and, boy, what a life! I mean – you know he lived with two men at the same time? For years? And happily?“ Armand nodded. „And his studies! His discoveries! Did you know he wrote a book about homosexuality as early as 1904? Even called it „The Third Sex“? Oh, you know. Of course you do.“ Timmy let the copy he had proudly raised sink. Armand cocked his head:  
„In fact, I gave a speech on this book at last year‘s Hirschfeld Symposium in Berlin.“  
„Oh, you did? Can I read it? Please, I mean?“ Armand didn‘t react but suddenly seemed alarmed:  
„Wait, you said you got those on your way here. I thought your generation is ordering everything online?“  
„Sometimes I do, but it‘s a pain, actually, as I‘m never there when the mail arrives. And I didn‘t feel like having those shipped into Brian‘s office.“  
Armand seemed even more concerned: „Did anyone see you buying those?“  
„Why, yes, of course, the cashier… He was great, by the way. Kid my age. Recommended me some more queer history lit.“  
Armand groaned and hid his face in one hand. He was engaged to clean up the last PR-desaster whereas the next one loomed right around the corner.  
„Timmy, you shouldn‘t... I mean, you know how people are. Check tumblr in two hours, and a photo of your back, walking out of the bookstore, with the caption „Look who bought all those queer books!“ will be all over the internet.“  
Timmy stopped:  
„No. Who would do something like that?“  
Armand sighed: „You can‘t be that naive.“ Timmy looked at him with large eyes, frowned and silently took a sip from his coffee. „Well. Seems I have to learn rather about privacy than about kissing.“  
Armand nodded.  
„Sorry to rob you of your joy. But – next time you need, ahem, special literature, tell me to get it for you. I‘d be glad to. All right?“  
„Thanks, man“, Timmy mumbled. He took a medium black Moleskin notebook from his bag and set a stylish, foreign-looking black pencil on top of it. „All new. September is for new beginnings, isn‘t it?“ With a sudden spark in his eyes, he groped in his backpack for the final book, the pièce de resistance: „Look here!“, he beamed and held up Armand‘s own work on kissing. Armand laughed openly:  
„You shouldn‘t pay for it! I‘d been glad to give you a copy, I‘ve got plenty!“  
„See, I thought“, Timmy sat up straight and alertly and posed his hands neatly onto the book, „if I do this private kissing 101, I need the textbook my teacher wrote. Will you sign it for me?“ All seriousness was gone when he smiled expectantly at Armand. He nodded. „But think of something special to write, please“, Timmy pleaded. „Because – this is already special to me. Having met you, I mean. I had just one lesson and got so much inspiration.“ He got up again on his lanky, long legs and strode over to the shelves behind the desk. „And this here“, he had found the Hirschfeld again, „is quite valuable, isn‘t it? I looked for first editions yesterday and...“ His voice trailed off while his long fingers stroked the book.  
„I got it in Berlin a while ago.“  
„You seem to lead an exciting life. Always exploring, studying sexual behaviour until late at night… And with living objects, I guess...“  
Armand raised his eyebrows and remained silent.  
„You know“, Timmy put the book back onto the shelve and bounced through the room again, „I‘d love to do a film on Hirschfeld. I‘d love to do a biopic. Isn‘t his life too amazing?“  
„And who would you be?“  
„His first lover, of course. I‘m too young to play the man himself. And I can‘t do the chinese lover obviously, you see. Wouldn‘t that be great? I need to talk to Luca...“  
Armand had gotten up and tried to arrest the jittering kid in front of him:  
„Timothée, now look here. Just stand still for a second, would you! You‘re making me nervous!“  
Timmy stopped and smirked:  
„Now „Timothée“ sounds like my elementary school teacher. Well, go on.“  
Even if Timmy had his feet solidly on the ground, he started to sway back and forth slightly, moving his hips openly, and shot Armand a daring glance. He lightly touched his arms and tried to hold the young man in place:  
„You can‘t talk about those kind of things. Not now. We‘re here to make you look as straight as possible. Never mention any gay historical persons. Please.“ Armand sighed exasperatedly and let go of Timmy‘s arms. „And how about you limit your caffeine intake. Did you ever try tea?“  
„I did. I like it, actually.“  
„Well, so we‘ll have tea in here from tomorrow on, all right? Now...“  
„How gay are you?“, Timmy‘s curious voice interrupted Armand‘s attempt of a clear thought. Armand pretended maturity and superiority by responding coolly „Gay enough for the job“, but felt his cheeks turn hot. He looked ostentatiously at his large watch and started to rummage his desk for some papers, keeping his back to Timmy. Who was misteriously silent for three seconds. When Armand glanced over his shoulder to see what he was up to now, he saw an unusual calm, relaxed Timmy leaning on his desk, smiling sweetly at him. He said softly and adoringly:  
„I like the way you say things.“  
Armand recognized the line from one of his favourite movies. He was strangely touched and had difficulty to find his speech again. They looked at each other, standing quite close – rarely a client had disrespected personal space as much as Timmy did – and held the tension. Until Timmy turned in one fluid, elegant motion even closer to him and almost whispered in his dark, warm voice:  
„I‘m ready for my kissing lesson, Dr Hammer. What did you have in mind for today?“

Armand held his gaze. How green his eyes were. Especially in this light. He cleared his throat, gripped the yellow pad in front of his chest like an armour and motioned towards the seating area:  
„I want to do a little visualization with you. Could we please sit down for this one?“  
Timmy nodded obediently – Armand was surprised at getting no objections – and threw himself into one of the chairs. Armand sat down opposite him and tried to compose himself. In his best professorial voice, he started, emphasising almost every word:  
„What is a kiss?“ His train of thought was cut short by Timmy‘s voice:  
„Do you want me to show you?“  
„Of course not“, Armand groaned. „I told you – we are not doing any kissing here. We are on strictly professional terms. Keeping our professional distance.“  
„We do?“, Timmy asked mockingly and with perked eyebrows. When he saw anger crossing Armand‘s face, he conceded: „All right, I know what a kiss is. We don‘t have to define it. Carry on, please.“  
Armand glanced at him, half annoyed and on the verge of getting authoritorian. He drew a deep breath and continued:  
„Now, I want you to remember one particular, special kiss. The most beautiful kiss you ever have witnessed. Be it in your personal life, on film, in a book or in a museum. Just – THE most extraordinary kiss. You don‘t have to share it with me – you can, if you feel more comfortable, but you can keep it all private. I want you to remember this outstanding kiss in all details. What did you feel? Where did you feel something? Which parts of your body were involved? Could you ever repeat this experience?“  
Timmy looked at him, wordlessly for once. And calm, all of a sudden, which Armand noticed with great relief. Timmy sighed, slid down a bit in his chair and let his head sink back onto the cushion. He closed his eyes. He looked like a painting: porcelain teint, dark pink lips, long, long lashes on his delicate cheeks. Armand couldn‘t take his eyes off him. He said softly:  
„Take your time“ and leaned back in his chair himself. For the first time this morning, he felt his heart beat calmer. He closed his own eyes for a second when he heard Timmy‘s dark voice:

„It was in Paris. Back in early 2016 – this was when I could still visit museums unnoticed. I stayed with my sister, and one morning, she had stuff to do, so I went into the Rodin museum. It was midweek and foggy and cold. I was almost alone in the whole place. I remember how the wooden floor creaked when I walked around the rooms. There were all those people out of marble there, and I had a strange sense of disturbing them in their privacy. I loved the place. And then – well, visiting the Rodin museum, you have to be aware to happen upon the „The Thinker“ and „The Kiss“ somewhere along the way. You are sort of prepared to see them, and you have seen so many reproductions of them and so on, but – when I entered the large room with the kissing couple, I was – I don‘t know – totally dumbstruck. It‘s so much larger than I expected – have you been there?“

Timmy‘s question tore Armand from his own reverie. He opened his eyes and saw Timmy‘s eager, green eyes on him. He nodded:  
„Yes, I have. I remember the floor also.“  
„So, it‘s really large, and it has got such a power, such a – how can I say this – such a strong message and sense of union and… I don‘t know how to put this. But I suddenly felt like an intruder. The embrace was so immensly intimate and private, I wanted to leave the room as soon as possible. But then – I risked a glance. And realized how the marble glittered in the pearly grey winter light. It seemed to glow from within. You know this special luminous light in Paris? Grey but glowing?“  
Armand nodded.  
„Actually, it was the quality of the stone that mesmerized me first. But when I stepped closer, I realized – this is not two people. They are on the verge of melting into one another. Of becoming one, in a transcendental and all the same very carnal way. The moment Rodin captured is just a passing one, one of many, on their way of two individuals becoming one. Although it‘s a very crucial one, I‘d say. Had he zoomed in too early, we‘d have two individual people. Had he shown them a few minutes later, we‘d have a bland depiction of a sexual encounter. But showing them during their kiss, Rodin is capturing the pivotal point, you know? The crucial moment of touching and surrendering. Of forgetting where you end and the other one starts.“

When Armand looked at Timmy again, he had his head back in the chair and looked dreamily into space. Armand swallowed and said:  
„Thank you for sharing, Timmy. That was a very beautiful and moving account of your experience.“  
„And do you remember their feet? Her feet on his?“  
„Of course. This was for me the peak of intimacy, actually.“  
They shared one long look of mutual understanding. Timmy nodded, still entranced in his memories.  
„Also – his hand on her hip. I thought that incredibly erotic. Because the motion he is about to take is caught in this clear and deliberate touch. He‘ll hold her thigh even more, smooth it open, hold it apart when he‘s about to...“ Timmy stopped abruptely and looked around him. „Sorry. That‘s transcending the actual kiss. That‘s what I meant, you see? Rodin is giving us just one glimpse of a whole choreography, but we can se and feel everything that happened before and after.“  
„No, not everyone can. You‘d need an artist‘s eye to see that far. You are lucky to have it.“  
Timmy looked at him, silently and relaxed. Finally. When they both took a deep breath simultaneously, they laughed. Armand got up straighter and remarked:  
„What power the autumn sun still has. It got quite warm in here, didn‘t it?“  
Timmy tried to hide a smirk:  
„Must be all those windows.“  
Armand nodded, gathered his papers and remarked in his usual professional voice:  
„Well, that was a very promising session. Timothée. I‘m glad we are progressing this nicely. Tomorrow, we need to talk about the role of body language when kissing. You made a wonderful transition with your impression of an exceptional work of art. But I‘m sorry, we‘ll have to analyse the photos tomorrow.“  
„No“, wailed Timmy. „I know what I did wrong! Please, don‘t do this to me.“  
„I‘m just telling you so you can brace yourself. Please, keep the appointment anyway. Don‘t skip it out of – embarrassement or something. Okay?“  
Armand had gotten up. Timmy mirrored him and remarked, his old naughty self again:  
„I googled you, by the way. I know how old you are.“  
„Well?“  
„I‘ll come back anyway.“ He started to gather his books and handed Armand his own publication:  
„Will you write something inside for me?“ Armand nodded and groped for it. Timmy still held it in his hands. They were linked by the book when he asked:  
„Maybe I should need some practical tuition on top of your lectures. Can‘t we book you for that?“ His long lashes flattered. Armand tried to hide his amusement:  
„Transferential behaviour like the one you display is not unusual in a relationship like our‘s. May I remind you anyway...“  
„You keep your professional distance, I know, I know. Thanks, man. I enjoyed it.“  
„See you tomorrow!“


	3. Digging deep/Third lesson

Armand, in a luminous blue fine merino sweater today, was busy arranging a small tray of tea things on his desk when Betsey called behind him:

„Mr Chalamet, Dr. Hammer.“

„Thanks, just send him in!“

When he looked up, he was still alone in the room. Through the open door, he saw Timmy leaning and fidgeting on her table, crossing and uncrossing his legs, while Betsey giggled and once laughed out loud. He had never heard her laugh. To say nothing of her body language – leaning forward, tipping her head on her folded hands, beaming and smiling at Timmy like a young girl. Christ, Betsey was – what, 56? 57 even? Timmy really had a strong effect on people.

Armand approached the doorway, closed his jacket, cleared his voice and and announced seriously:

„Mr Chalamet, whenever you‘re ready...“

Timmy looked up:

„Oh, hi there! Just a sec, man!“ He turned to Betsey again and continued: „And then...“

Armand looked out of the window with crossed arms when Timmy finally strode into the room, closed the door audibly and was beside him with three long steps. To Armand‘s surprise, he slung one arm around his shoulder, leaned his soft, beardless cheek against Armand‘s for a second and squeezed his shoulder:

„Hi, good morning. Sorry for keeping you waiting. I didn‘t even bring coffee.“

Armand swallowed. Timmy‘s curls that had touched and tickled his cheek smelled like something fruity. And when he talked so close to Armand‘s face, his breath was minty. Armand took a step back and said:

„Good morning, Timothée.“

Timmy stopped surprised, but his face lit up again:

„Oh, all business mode already. I see. I didn‘t do anything wrong? Overstepped boundaries or something like that?“

„Well...“, Armand started, but Timmy stated:

„I just like to hug in the morning.“ and took off his backpack. He deposited it together with his cap on the window sill and came back to Armand. An open sweat jacket hung around his skinny figure. Beneath, he wore a loose t-shirt with some print Armand didn‘t understand. A fine golden chain graced his slender neck. His green eyes flashed approvingly when he touched Armand‘s underarm:

„This colour is very becoming on you. And the fabric is so soft, wow! I like that!“

Armand tried to hide a blush. Damn it, why was he so easy to blush?

„Thank you“, he tried his professional voice but sounded somewhat shaky. Timmy smiled at him expectantly when Armand sat down as casually as he managed on the edge of his desk:

„Why don‘t we jump right in. The tea is still too hot, but while it cools, let‘s start with a little body work.“

„Ah, finally!“, Timmy beamed.

Armand shot him a cross look:

„If you remember, we left off yesterday at your description of the timeless, sensual Rodin statue. You stated, quite beautifully, by the way, that this was the point of two people becoming one.“ Timmy nodded and stepped closer. Armand sat up straighter:

„I want us to do an easy exercise to get a feel for personal space. I guess it‘s nothing new for you after acting classes, but, anyway.“

„Yes?“, Timmy whispered and placed himself straight and open in front of Armand.

„You‘re invading my personal space already. Just for the record.“ Timmy stayed where he was and raised one eyebrow mischievously. 

„I don‘t mind“, he stated. 

„What if I do?“

„Oh, I don‘t think you do“, Timmy smirked. Armand drew in an exasperated breath and got off the table sideways. 

„Now, stay where you are and face me. Mirror me. Yes, that‘s it. I want us to experience the point where personal space starts. It‘s more eye-opening to do this with closed eyes, but you‘d have to be quite comfortable for that. So, let‘s start with our eyes open for today.“

Timmy worried his lips and glanced at Armand meaningful and invitingly. Armand shook his head:

„No comment, please. I know what you‘re about to say.“ Timmy raised his eyebrows, seemingly satisfied, and asked softly:

„Is there something like personal space in our heads also? Because I got a feeling you are intruding mine...“

„Concentrate now, would you?“, Armand sighed. He stood about four feet from Timmy, straight, but relaxed, his arms at his sides and his feet slightly apart. Timmy took in the same posture and was silent. „You stay where you are, all right? Now, if I take one step forward – how does it feel?“

„Not very different.“ 

Armand nodded, held the distance for some seconds and took a smaller step towards Timmy. „Still nothing?“

„Just“ - Timmy shrugged - „no, actually. Quite normal.“

One more step, a wordless question with his eyes and a short shaking of Timmy‘s head, the lips pursed. When Armand stepped forward once more, deliberate and slowly, and stopped about a foot in front of Timmy, he opened his eyes suddenly wide and gasped:

„Oh.“

Armand stood motionless and looked at Timmy. Right into his luminous eyes. Timmy‘s shoulders heaved with a long, slow intake of breath and he held Armand‘s gaze. They were that close that Armand could see the fine blue vein in his neck throbbing quite quickly. The kid had had coffee again. Well…

„Let‘s close our eyes for a moment. Feel what happens. And please articulate your feelings for me.“

„Will you...“

Still with opened eyes, Armand interrupted:

„No touching. That‘s essential.“

Timmy sighed, tried a disappointed, exasperated look but closed his eyelids quickly. Armand allowed himself one long look at the beauty right in front of him until he closed his eyes also. The seconds ticked away between them. Everything was quiet but for their soft breathing. Armand was aware of Timmy‘s shampoo again when he heard his voice:

„I feel something like a whirl between us. A slow, warm, whirl. Going from you to me. Like – some energy? I don‘t know. Something is twirling between us.“

„And where?“

Timmy was silent. Armand stepped noiselessly even closer to him. Timmy gasped, with opened lips, and whispered:

„I feel it around my belly-button. A whole block of energy between us.“

„Yes.“ Armand was mesmerized by the long, dark eyelashed on Timmy‘s cheeks. Silently, he took a large step backwards which was immediately followed by a disappointed: „What?“ from Timmy. He yanked his eyes open in surprise. Armand soothed him: „Close them again.“ Timmy did, and when Armand moved silently closer again, he moaned softly and indulgently: „Yeah. There it is again.“ „You feel it?“ „Yes“, Timmy nodded. 

„Let‘s open our eyes now and see how close we are.“ They did. Timmy remained motionless and expectant. Armand gave him one more long look before he said softly: „Very good. Now remember – this is where your very own personal space starts. And probably that of most people. Keep that in mind when doing intimate scenes next time. Because...“ Armand turned on his heels and started for his desk. Again, an incredulous „What?“ pierced the air. He felt a hand clutching into his sweater:

„You can‘t make me feel all those things and then – bang, be gone!“ Timmy held him and tried to turn him around.

„Timothée, what‘s up? Calm down! That was just an example!“

Timmy stared at him with open lips and dark eyes.

„You made me go to a strange place. You should give me some time to come back.“

„Did it really affect you that much?“ Timmy nodded.

„I‘m sorry, Tim. I didn‘t expect… I mean, that was just a tiny exercise to show you...“

Timmy seemed hurt:

„If you‘ve some more of your exercices in store, please give me enough time to come back.“

Armand was concerned: „I‘m sorry. I really am. You are quite sensitive, aren‘t you? Many people don‘t feel anything of the kind you experienced.“

Timmy shrugged his shoulders. Armand said: „I‘ll take better care of you next time. Promise?“

Timmy nodded weakly. His pupils were still rather large and he was unusually quiet.

„How about some tea now?“, Armand tried to change the subject.

„Yes, please“, Timmy said almost inaudibly and made his way towards one of the armchairs.

„Would you come here, please? We‘ll look at some pictures on my laptop.“

Timmy turned around, still silent and wearily, and slowly slid into the chair Armand offered him next to his swivel chair. Armand tried an encouraging smile. When he got no response, he sighed, took the silver tea pot, poured the steaming, golden tea into a dainty white cup with a golden rim and handed it to Timmy. He set his own cup next to his open computer and gave his chair a slight push into Timmy‘s direction.

„Still cross?“

„I‘m not cross“, Timmy sulked, sounding even more cross. Armand sighed, took a sip from his cup and continued:

„Because – I‘m really sorry – I‘m afraid this lesson won‘t be that enjoyable for you.“

„You sound like a dentist.“

„Well. Let‘s get over with it, shall we?“

After some clicks from his elegant long fingers, one of the pictures of the happy couple in Capri appeared on the screen. Timmy groaned and slid lower in his chair:

„Do we really have to?“ He covered his eyes with one hand. Armand ignored him and started:

„Now, if you look at this photo, taken in the parking lot before your outing – look at the distance between you. I‘m able to read the license plate of the car behind you. Did you hear that, Timmy?“ Timmy grunted, remembered his tea and was all of a sudden very occupied with cup and saucer. „You pretend to make out passionately with your love, you kiss her even, but keep her at such a distance that you can read a frigging license plate between you!“ Timmy rolled his eyes:

„Got it. You may go on.“

„Remember our little exercise? Try at least to have your stomachs flush against each other. You may prefer to avoid any contact of the hips or genital areas, but please – a bit closer with the middle of your bodies. There, where the energy flows. All right? It‘ll look ever so much more convincing.“ Timmy sighed and nodded. 

„Now, if you compare this one to this photo here...“ Some more clicking sounds. Timmy rolled his eyes and fell back in his chair for an intense study of the ceiling. Armand was silent until Timmy finally risked a glance. He recognised a film still from the infamous movie, the one Brian tried to gloss over now. It was the midnight scene. He clung passionately to his partner, head thrown back in exstasy, his arms around his co-star's shoulders. He moulded himself into the other man‘s body, curving and pliant. And endlessly needy. Armand was still silent. Timmy looked at him from the side, encouraging a comment. Armand asked:

„Could you read a big car‘s license plate between you? A newspaper almost, like in the last photo?“

Timmy shook his head. He seemed overcome with memories.

„Would anything have fitted between you and your costar?“

Again a silent head shake. Timmy said softly: „Nothing. Nothing at all.“

„Not even a credit card?“, Armand tried to tease him.

„Not even a credit card“, Timmy responded. „But that was – different, you know...“, he said slowly.

„But you acted all the same. You are a brillant actor, Timmy. You can fill all sorts of situations with life. Please, try to do it for the next pap session, could you?“

„But...“ Timmy‘s objection hung in the air. Armand waited and smiled encouragingly. Timmy sighed: „Never mind.“

His eyes were still on the screen when the next picture flashed on it. One of the abominable Capri ones. He was clutching to the rail of the boat, with both hands, as if groping for the last life line. Lily-Rose knelt between his legs, pure seduction and posing as sensually as she could, assaulting his lips with her opened mouth.

„Well?“ Armand tried. „What looks funny?“

„Apart from the whole set-up, you mean?“ Silence. „Armand, I know what looks funny. Please don‘t have me to articulate it.“

„All right. So, next time, at least give the girl a little pat. And with both hands, if possible."

„I did! I did in one of the next photos! I even touched her butt! That was good, wasn‘t it?“

„It‘s a start. But what Brian wishes for is for you to look more active. To lead. To conquer. I guess you know the comments this pose brought you?“

„I‘m a fish – mouthed sub. I know. Do you actually enjoy it to torment me like that?“

Armand leaned back in his chair and sighed:

„Of course not. Poor you… I know it‘s a tough one, but we‘re almost done. Our family doctor always handed out lollipops when we had to get our shots. I wish I had some.“

„Me too“, Timmy sulked.

Armand brought the last photo onto the screen. Timmy flinched: again a film still, the kiss on this dusty old mattress in the attic. They seemed to devour each other with their lips. Their hands were tenderly touching their respective shoulders and backs. Timmy held his head slightly back in utter abandon, but seemed to take an active part anyway.

Armand silently poured some more tea and leaned back with his cup. Timmy stared at the computer and suddenly groped for the mouse. He fiddled a bit and closed the photo. Armand‘s screensaver – a placid, lonely lake somewhere in the North – appeared. Timmy let out a breath. They were silent for some seconds until Armand asked:

„Why did you do that?“

„It‘s too painful. This scene was… My tears were real. It‘s actually too intimate to watch it with somebody else. Sorry.“

Armand nodded. He turned towards Timmy who spoke before he found any words: „But I get it. I understand what you mean. Closer, more touching, more – I get it. It‘s just – I mean, fuck!“ He got up with a stomp and started to pace the room. Armand gave him some time to blow off steam, and, sure enough, Timmy returned to him and placed himself straight before him:

„It‘s just not possible to do that with that girl. I can‘t. I just can‘t!“, he cried desperately. „I don‘t like how she looks. I don‘t like those fat, pouty lips. Her cruel look, even if she smiles. And she smells like an ashtray. And then, her perfume – it‘s sickening! So heavy, like old ladies‘s stuff. I get nauseous if I smell this scent. And speaking of – the ecological balance at the Amalfi coast will be damaged for centuries. Lily-Rose spread so much hair spray, sun tan lotion, perfume and what know I into the sea that I wouldn‘t wonder if the next headlines were: „Inexplicable mass-mortality of marine fauna near Capri“!“

Timmy had worked himself into a state. Armand sat up straighter in his chair and tried to soothe Timmy:

„I‘m sorry there isn‘ anything to be done right now about who you get papped with. The movie needs promotion, and it wouldn‘t shed a good light on you to be suddenly seen with someone else. But, just in theory: would you mind Mrs Ronan less?“

Timmy grunted:

„Of course. She has class. She‘d never eat my face like this. To say nothing of the vulgar poses.“

Armand nodded:

„I thought so, too. But I have some ideas how to cope better next time.“

„Next time?“, Timmy moaned.


	4. Some oral rewards for a good boy/ Third lesson continued

Armand suddenly got up, patted Timmy‘s shoulder saying „Don‘t go anywhere“ and left the room. Timmy heard some mumbled words, Betsey‘s voice, some other noises and finally a warm „You‘re the best!“ in Armands melodious baritone. He came back, closed the door with a flourish and presented Timmy with a red-and-white-striped lollipop.

„Suddenly remembered Betsey has got grandchildren. Here you are. You‘ve been brave today.“

Timmy pursed his lips, torn between feeling insulted and keen on getting the treat, and finally groped for it. He unwrapped it, still with pouty lips, and didn‘t take his eyes off Armand. Especially not when putting it into his mouth and giving it a good long lick. They looked at each other, Armand trying to stay composed, Timmy moving the lollipop in and out of his mouth in a quite suggestive manner. Armand sighed. Timmy raised his eyebrows, still moving his red, moist lips around the treat, and conquered Armand‘s swivel chair. He slowly swayed back and forth a few times, licked his lollipop and looked at Armand under lowered lashes.

„Better now?“, Armand probed.

Timmy nodded: „Didn‘t have any breakfast. Feeling much better now.“

„You can‘t have a lollipop for breakfast! For heaven‘s sake! What are you doing to yourself?“

„You know, I just like not to eat too much. It‘s all right. Got used to it. But that‘s nothing compared to what I do to my soul with charades like that.“ He gestured towards the computer. „The damage feels much worse than controlling your weight.“

„You shouldn‘t hang out with models that much“, Armand sighed. „A man your age needs -“

„Yes, mom.“ Timmy interrupted him. Armand looked at him thoughtfully. The poor kid. Messed up on so many levels. But he seemed in a better mood since being orally occupied. He even got up, lollipop still in his mouth, and rummaged his bag for the notebook and a pencil. He sat down at Armand‘s desk again without asking and leafed through the notebook. Armand saw page after page covered in a spidery handwriting, interspersed with pages with lists. He perched on the table next to Timmy and read over his shoulder when Timmy added a new caption: „Body language“.

„You‘re taking notes?“

„Yes, of course. I want to learn something, remember?“

„And – all this writing here?“

„Oh, that‘s just my thoughts, my personal observations on our lessons… You know. But I try to capture every word you say. So“ - he swirled the lollipop wildly around his mouth and ended with an audible, wet „smack“. Armand flinched. Painting fat points at the beginning of each line, Timmy wrote, speaking slurredly around his treat:

„Get closer. Stomachs flush. No space between you (license plate!!!)“ Armand grinned. „Hips can, but must not. Arms/hands on shoulders. Hand on butt?“ Timmy raised an asking face upwards.

„Or any other primary sexual characteristics.“

„What?“

„Breasts, for example.“ „Oh“, Timmy said and sucked nervously on his lollipop. Armand felt his tension and asked softly:

„Any experience with boobs?“

„Uhm – no. Yes, wait, I mean, Esther? In the movie?“

„Yes“, Armand nodded approvingly, „that was a beautiful scene. You did well there.“

„Luca told me what to do“, Timmy shrugged. Armand sighed. He saw this might exceed valuable lesson time and wanted to dismiss the whole topic when Timmy asked:

„How about touching her nipples?“

Armand nodded, but added: „Just consider if you‘d do it in public. I mean the real you. It might go a little far.“

„But looks super heterosexual, doesn‘t it?“ Timmy scribbled away enthusiastically. „And – kissing her nipples? Through the fabric, I mean? That‘s really straight, isn‘t it?“

Armand nodded: „Certainly. Though – there is a lot more you could do with breasts.“

Timmy let the sharp tip of his tongue swirl around the lollipop and looked at Armand. Was the kid just really orally fixated, or tried he to seduce him, Armand wondered. Timmy seemed to do it unconsciously because he went on, still writing:

„Lily-Rose never wears a bra, so it should be possible even for a fish mouth like me to find her nipples.“

Armand noticed the pain in Timmy‘s voice. When Timmy put the pencil back onto the table, flopped back in the seat and swivelled towards Armand, he stopped the chair on the armrest and asked as professionally and impartially as he could:

„Is there anything else you want to talk about, Timothée?“

Timmy looked at the ceiling, played with his tongue with the lollipop which still hung in the corner of his mouth, and finally sighed:

„As a matter of fact, there is. I meant to ask you myself. Because – something is troubling me. And hindering me to really work with you. I want to give my best, you know, but… I didn‘t want to waste any lesson time, but I guess we‘d progress better if we talked it through.“ Armand nodded. Timmy was intelligent, open, emotionally mature and experienced, but Armand also sensed a certain obstacle, manifesting itself in the almost pubertal behaviour of the young actor.

„I‘d be glad to listen. Shall we set some time apart for it tomorrow?“

„Yes, please“, Timmy said. Freeing the chair from Armand‘s grip, he took up his former sensual back-and-forth movement, all the time moving the lollipop in and out of his mouth. He looked at Armand provokingly. Armand stated:

„Just for the record, there they are again. Your sub vibes. Just you know.“

„I know perfectly well“, Timmy said nonchalantly. „Just doing it for you“ he added with a deep, hoarse voice. He clearly challenged him. They held the tension for a few seconds until Timmy grinned broadly. He got up and offered the flattened glistening lollipop to Armand who contorted his face in disgust and pushed Timmy away. 

„Not as orally fixated as I hoped?“ Timmy whispered seductively close to his ear. 

„Our lesson time is over. See you tomorrow“, Armand stated severely. Timmy gave the lollipop one more visible long lick and waved with raised eyebrows.


	5. Osculology

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Osculology is a word, actually. I'm as surprised as you.

When Timmy entered the office the next day, he looked unusually formal in the Thom Brown jacket Armand knew from photos, black tight pants and high-laced black boots.

„All dressed up?“, Armand greeted him.

„So are you“, Timmy stated, taking in Armand‘s dark grey suit complete with shirt and tie.

„Lecture at Columbia at noon.“

„Press conference at one“, Timmy replied. He sat down on the chair in front of Armand‘s desk and bent down to open his backpack.

„What about?“

„I‘m shooting in Europe early next year. It‘ll be announced today.“

„You mean with… So the rumors are true?“

„Just wait and see“, Timmy smirked. „But – I‘m happy. And very excited.“

„Congratulations!“, Armand smiled. But the atmosphere was still strained and strangely formal. No bouncing, no hugging, no trespassing of personal space – instead Timmy deliberately had chosen a place where the large wooden desk shielded and separated him from Armand. He clearly seemed uncomfortable, and Armand, having no idea what troubled his client, was anxious to learn more. 

Timmy had found his black notebook. He put it on the table in front of him, watched it intently for a moment until he finally lifted his eyes and searched Armand‘s gaze for the first time this morning.

„Hi!“, Armand tried as warmly as he could.

„Hi“, Timmy replied sadly.

„You seem different today. What‘s keeping you up at night?“ Armand tried to joke. Timmy‘s lips didn‘t move. Instead, he looked at Armand gravely.

„I don‘t know how to begin.“ He worried his lips a few seconds. „You see – these lessons are doing something to me. You set a lot in motion, which is good. I‘m grateful for your help. But“ - Timmy looked out of the window nervously, folded and unfolded his hands until he finally lightly touched his notebook - „you know, I‘m keeping notes of what‘s going on in here. Not only your words and suggestions, which I appreciate greatly, but also – how it makes me feel. You remember I was rather reluctant when I came here.“ „Rather reluctant“ was an elegant way of putting it, Armand thought. „Things got worse even, and I tried to analyze why I behave the way I behaved. And I don‘t mean my childish hostility, but – something else.“

„Yes?“ Armand tried patiently.

„Is it normal that your clients flirt with you like I do? Are you not surprised or something?“

Armand laughed. Timmy stayed serious. Armand touched and stroked his chin, moved his head sideways in order to hide a smile and responded:

„No. That‘s not normal.“ His full baritone reverberated in the room. Timmy was silent.

„I‘m sorry I‘ve been assaulting you like I did.“

Armand tried to bring in a bit lightness: „Oh, I can take it. Don‘t you worry.“

Timmy interrupted him: „No, what I mean, what‘s really troubling me, is: why I do it. Because – I know this sounds tacky – usually I‘m on the receiving end of things. I never had to actively flirt with someone. Rather think about how to turn others down. You know?“

Armand nodded: „I can imagine.“

„This urge to behave extra naughty, to provoke you every few minutes is strange even to myself. I went over my notes and tried to find what could be the reason. And now I know.“

Armand waited in silence. Timmy looked at him, slightly desperate. He took a deep breath:

„Well, of course, for once – you are very attractive.“ His voice had gotten very soft. „But I‘m used to beautiful people around me, so this shouldn‘t affect me this much. But when I saw you – I mean, I expected, I don‘t know, some old geriatric professor or something. And then – look at you. And I‘m introduced to you as fish-mouth. The guy who needs tuition because he‘s too stupid to kiss. I was feeling so, so – inferior. Humiliated. And I felt a very strong urge to prove to you that I‘m not ugly. And skinny and pale like cooked chicken or whatever, and, most of all, that I‘m not as inexperienced as you might think. I know how to kiss! I really do! At least I thought so...“ Timmy‘s lips quivered and he looked away. „A lot happened out of insecurity, I guess. And I‘m sorry for that.“ Armand, who had tried to give him uninterrupted space and time, got up. Timmy‘s monologue had touched him more than he cared to admit. There was this stunningly beautiful creature degrading himself in a devastating manner. Armand rounded the table and sat down on it next to Timmy. 

„Timmy, listen.“ Timmy eyed him sideways, his eyes a bit moist, his nose slightly pink. „Tim. Look at me.“ Tim snuffled quickly and leaned towards him. „You are beautiful. Very beautiful.“ „What?“ Timmy cried incredulously. „Yes, you are. And regarding your kissing skills – maybe it makes you feel better if I tell you that I use the clip with the kiss on Monet‘s berm in class to demonstrate my students what the perfect first kiss looks like.“

Timmy‘s lips fell open. „No, you don‘t!“

„Yes, I do. I cannot tell you how many hundreds of students had to listen to me soliloquizing on and on about this kiss. Your kiss. Because – it‘s perfect. Witty and creative, but first of all – just perfect.“

„Are you serious?“

„Accompany me to Columbia later on – no, don‘t. My students will faint by the dozen.“ Timmy smiled. Armand smiled also, a real smile – the first time this morning.

„Since we are being personal today, let me add my impression. Shall I?“ Timmy nodded and sat up straighter. „It felt surreal to see you walk into my very own office. And it seemed even more bizarre to help you in the matters Brian thought necessary. Because I knew from the first second: it has nothing to do with you or your abilities to kiss, but with the whole unworthy and disgusting set-up. I was sorry you had to go through this embarrassing experience. I was mainly sorry, and, to be frank, mad at Brian. I still don‘t know if he‘s the right man for you, if you forgive me for saying so. But, concerning you: please, never ever think I wouldn‘t think the world of you. Never feel inferior. Because you‘re not.“ Timmy swallowed. 

„But, you see – that‘s the reason I was compelled to act as childishly. It was almost as if something was forcing me. I know it was way over the top, and inappropriate, and I was putting you into an uncomfortable situation, but – I couldn‘t stop the urge. Because I wanted to show you that I‘m no inexperienced idiot.“

Armand nodded.

„Normally, I‘m more subtle“, Timmy added in mock desperation.

„I believe you. Calm down, Timmy. You remember, I called it transferential right from the start? It was a reaction of your deepest soul, provoked by the whole situation. Any sensitive person would have had one. Read about it, if you‘d like. It happens.“ Timmy nodded and sighed.

„I‘m embarrassed all the same. I promise“ - he got up and stood humbly in front of Armand - „I promise to control myself better from now on. And not to make you uncomfortable anymore.“

„As I said, I can take it. All right?“

„Right“, Timmy smiled. „Phew, I‘m feeling better now.“ He stretched his arms over his head and groaned indulgently while undulating his hips a bit. „Sorry, but this really kept me from sleeping.“

„Just for the record – this was no mating behaviour right now but really just a need to stretch?“. Armand asked. Timmy‘s eyes shot open:

„Of course!“ He looked shocked. „Gosh, what did I do… From now on...“

„Never mind. I was just asking myself if the view of your belly I got was intentional or...“

Timmy hastily groped for his shirt and smoothed it down. He smiled sadly:

„I wonder if we‘ll ever be able to return to our first harmless banter. I‘m afraid I ruined it.“

Armand calmed him and went to pour tea for both of them. 

„This teapot is beautiful. Is it old?“

„Yes, it is. From my grandfather. Real art deco – I‘m lucky, aren‘t I?“

„Is he still alive?“

„Yes. But he lives in California now. He came here in the Thirties and worked hard. I‘m living in the first apartment he bought in America. Upper West Side.“

Timmy cocked his head approvingly, took his cup and sipped from it. Armand sat down behind his desk again, Timmy perched on it for some seconds until he took his former seat again. They smiled at each other.

„So – what about our lesson today? Shall we call it a day, it being Friday and you in this emotional state, or would you like to do some work?“

Timmy shook his head: „Nothing new, please. I‘m still processing the last lessons. Let‘s start afresh Monday, shall we? But – since we started being honest and all – we both know it‘s a scam. Brian wants to manipulate us into thinking all this is so real that I actually need to improve on something which is – can you see the utter idiocy of this? A put-up job! He even dragged you into this!“

Armand said: „I didn‘t know how to mention this but, in the long run, you might want to look into the whole set-up. Your agent, I mean. I‘m not suggesting anything, but – either have a talk with him, or consider options. Sorry to be so blunt. But stunts like those could ruin your reputation.“

„I know.“

„Do you know what sort of contract you have with him?“

„No.“

„You might want to look into this.“

„Boy, I was so young when everything was arranged – I don‘t even remember signing anything. Wait, yes, I did. But didn‘t read it. Everything was so exciting and – you know.“

Armand nodded to him about the rim of his cup. Suddenly, he set it down and got up:

„Before I forget – I got your book.“ He held up his own publication. „And, just to let you know, I wrote this well before you came today.“

„Oh!“ Timmy took the book, opened it and read silently. His face relaxed and he suddenly broke into a beautiful, calm smile. He pursed his lips, ready to say something, but just looked into Armand‘s periwinkle, expectant eyes and said softly:

„Thank you.“ Armand nodded. The air between them suddenly seemed to quiver and shimmer. Timmy held the tension some more seconds before he leafed through the book:

„There was this adorable poem, where is it? I read it in the bookstore and looked forward to have it again. Ah, here you go - „How he would like to be kissed“ by Paul Fleming. Who was he?“

„A baroque poet. Rather well known.“

Timmy shrugged: „Here, listen. I mean, you know it, don‘t you, but - „Nowhere but on the mouth, then it sinks to the bottom of the heart.“ And here, this line hurt: „More alone than among people.“

Armand nodded meaningfully: „‘Bout 400 years ago, but still advisable.“ Timmy read on silently until Armand said:

„I just love this line: „Half biting, half brushed. Half lip dipped in lip.““

Timmy smiled: „That‘s so cute, isn‘t it? Do you think a beginner could learn how to kiss by this poem alone?“ He grinned.

„No. That‘s just theory. You‘d need practical underlining to really know how to kiss. But the poem is a favourite in osculology, to be sure, a gem of cultural history.“

„What‘s osculull – what did you say?“

„Osculology? The science of kissing.“

„You‘re kidding.“

„No. That‘s the official term for my special field of studies.“

„I can‘t believe it. Are you serious?“ Timmy tried to hide a big grin. Armand took the book from him, turned some pages and showed him wordlessly a chapter called: „Osculology in the 17th century.“

„So, you‘re an osculologist.“ Timmy looked into the book to get the word straight. „Feels almost like a kiss inside your mouth, this word!“ Armand repeated it several times, slowly and sensually, and grinned also: 

„You‘re right. No-one ever noticed! Feels like – just the right place to meet another tongue, doesn‘t it? Say it again, feel where the tip of your tongue touches your teeth and palate...“ He said it again, softly, and Timmy joined him. He grinned soon:

„Yeah, that‘s a start. It‘s french kissing 101, isn‘t it, not too far inside, but a good start.“

„Could be an extension of your famous kitten lick. I mean, your tongue looked so poised and sharp...“ Armand blushed. Timmy froze suddenly and looked at him. A fine hue of pink spread over his cheeks and his lips were dark pink all of a sudden. He looked intently at Armand‘s mouth, until he blinked, swallowed and perused the book again:

„Anyway, Fleming‘s talking nowhere about fish mouths or all to blatant public display. And I guess that‘s most people‘s idea of a good kiss. I was wondering, for the next pap session – do I have to kiss at all?“

Armand, coming out of his spell, chimed in:

„I wanted to talk about this exact point in the next lesson. Because – excuse me, but I guess you know it already – your show was definitely over the top. You should be seen together, maybe being a bit cozy and intimate, but this verged on a soft porn. Thanks to your partner, I‘m sorry to say. Now, would you behave like this in front of a bunch of friends? And a hired skipper?“

Timmy shook his head vigourously: „Of course not.“

„Remember: less is more. Not necessarily when it comes to really private kisses“ - Armand rolled his eyes inwardly – did he really just say this? - „but certainly for a convincing photo shoot.“

Timmy nodded and closed the book:

„Speaking of, the next one‘s around the corner. Brian wants us to do another bagel shop one before the press conference. Any suggestions?“

„Skip the nutella. I‘d recommend cream cheese and cucumber.“

„Silly you!“, Timmy laughed affectionately. „What would you do if you‘d have to wait in line with me at a bagel shop?“

Armand stared at him wordlessly. He didn‘t seem to realize it until Timmy made a soft asking sound. Armand seemed startled:

„If I were you, ahem, no, if I were Lily-Rose – no, sorry, you want to know what you are to do...“ Timmy looked at him, surprised but amused. „You are the osculologist. You should know.“

„No kissing“, Armand blurted out. „Don‘t kiss her.“

„You wouldn‘t kiss me in a bagel shop?“ Timmy asked innocently. Armand sighed and got up. Timmy smirked.

„Are you making fun of me?“, Armand asked in a raised, commanding voice. Timmy got up also and stepped closer. „I thought we‘re over that?“

„Mmh, I miss it, sort of… This lesson was terribly serious. Just, for old time‘s sake?“ Timmy pleaded naughtily. Armand pursed his lips, gently cuffed Tim‘s shoulder and said softly:

„Guess I‘d put my hand in the back pocket of your jeans. Ah, Lily-Rose‘s jeans. For about – twenty seconds. You know – hint at intimacy. Be a bit sexy, but just – a hint of sexy. Show nothing. Allude to everything.“ Timmy held his gaze. Armand was close enough for him to smell his scent. 

„Twenty seconds it is, then“, Timmy said softly. „But no kisses.“ „No. Not in a bagel shop. Kissing should wait.“ Timmy licked his lips involuntarily and nodded. „Because you‘re spending all your time together now and can kiss at home.“ „Eat outside. Kiss at home. I‘ll jot it down presently“, he joked. Armand raised an eyebrow and settled himself on the edge of the desk.

„Man, I‘d love to take you to dinner. Are you free – shit. Sorry!“ Timmy‘s hands fluttered through the air in front of him. „Forgot that I shouldn‘t go out now. Unless with – you know who. Shouldn‘t get papped with anyone else.“

„Especially not a dude.“

The corners of Timmy‘s lips shot upwards: „Especially not a handsome dude like you.“ Armand mirrored his smirk. Timmy said:

„Once per lesson is allowed, isn‘t it?“

„Speaking of – I‘d say we‘re almost done here. One more strategy planning on Monday, and you‘re good to go.“

„No!“, Timmy cried, genuinely worried. „I know nothing! We barely started!“ 

Armand chuckled:

„Is this the same person who had to be dragged in here last week?“ Timmy looked at him with large, shining eyes. „It is, but – now I know you better. And I see there‘s still so much to learn. And...“ He looked at the floor. „I like our lessons. I‘d miss you terribly. Please. Two more weeks.“

Armand shook his head:

„I wouldn‘t know how to explain this to Brian. It‘s unethical to enrich myself on something my student already knows.“

Timmy groped for Armand‘s wrist and looked on his watch:

„Sorry, but I got to go. You know, the pap is waiting… I‘ll be back on Monday, and please, think about further lessons. Will you?“

*

When Armand finished his lecture three hours later, he noticed a sudden outburst of giggles and a clustering of girls in the front row. While he packed his papers and scripts he heard: „Not a bagel shop again!“ „Who? Let me see!“ „Oh my god, it starts to get ridiculous!“ „Does she have just this one pair of jeans?“ „I‘m done with him. He‘s just an attention-hungry jerk like all the others.“ „But look, how cute, his hand in her pocket – I think he really likes her.“ „I‘d love his hand in mine, for sure.“ Armand tried to hide a satisfied smile and decided to check his phone once he was in the privacy of his office.

After logging in into his secret tumblr, his dash was flooded by pictures of a beaming Timmy with an equally happy François Ozon at his side. Some were taken during the press conference, some outside in the mild fall sun. Timmy seemed his usual dorky self, Ozon couldn‘t take his hand off Timmy‘s shoulder. Both seemed genuinely happy. Armand scrolled through photo after photo. The coffee-shop ones really had been taken earlier. When Armand finally saw them, he was content; Timmy and Lily-Rose leaned in close enough but not too close. He whispered something in her ear. His fragile, slender wrist vanished under her jacket, his fingers were invisible. They seemed like conspirators, as if sharing a secret. This would raise much more gossip than the blatant porny ones. Very good.

Armand‘s phone pinged – a message from Brian:

„Urgent – next photo session at Lagerfeld memorial event at MOMA in two weeks. Please book us in for an additional eight lessons. Tim anxious. Please confirm.“

Armand leaned back in his chair and smiled. The spoiled little noodle…


	6. The King

Armand had been keeping track of any possible sightings of his client over the weekend. Checking his tumblr had become strangely compulsive, but he tried to tell himself it was strictly for work. It was work also to go back to the otherworldly pictures of Timmy in silver silk on the red carpet in Venice not too long ago, just days before his fall. He looked like an apparition. Like a dream come true. Stunningly beautiful, ethereal, impossible to be real. A true king. Now, his image was tainted and smudged in a deplorable way. Armand saw the need to help him to reach his true god-like state again. Fans would rather have mistery and elusiveness than the all-too human insights the Capri photos offered. He would work with Timmy to rebuild his former arcane persona again. And Armand had some ideas how to do that.

He was in Betsey‘s room, going over his calendar with his secretary and trying to make space for Timmy four times a week, when Tim walked through the door. Armand swallowed. Despite having seen Timmy now almost daily over the last week, he still had a strong effect on him. He was even lovelier in the flesh than on pictures. After warm greetings, a hinted-at hug for Betsey and some banter with her Armand and Timmy retreated into his office. It was flooded by morning light and golden rays of sunshine. In front of the blue walls Timmy‘s eyes were even greener.

„Here you are again. Still eager for knowledge, I see.“

Timmy smiled silently but seemed very satisfied with himself.

„Tell me about this Lagerfeld gala. What‘s expected of you?“

„Bit of a red carpet before, but we are to be papped mainly during reception. You know, the cute unobserved moments.“

„Anything afterwards?“

„No, thank god. I‘m allowed to disappear. The after-party is all fashion people and models. Lily-Rose will stay, of course. It‘s her crowd.“

„No paps there?“

„According to Brian, no.“

Armand nodded. This should work. He got up:

„I want to talk to you about privacy today.“

„No kissing?“, Timmy joked with a pout.

„We‘ll get to that“, Armand tried to sound as playfully as Timmy but realized he failed utterly. He cleared his throat: „Let‘s see: intimacy and the public display of affections is something very personal. There is a certain agreement in our culture what is allowed in public, certain codes – an arm over the shoulder of someone you like, holding hands, quick pecks to show you are together. Equally, there‘s an understanding about what shouldn‘t be seen in public. What could make others feel uncomfortable. I won‘t have to give examples.“ 

„Oh, please, go ahead. I‘m anxious for examples.“ Armand raised his chin and silenced Timmy with a strict glance. Timmy chuckled. 

„Now, you don‘t have to answer any of my questions if they are too personal, but let‘s talk about how comfortable you are with public display of affections. Did you ever see your parents kiss?“

„Of course! Didn‘t you?“

Armand faltered. He wasn‘t used to be the one answering questions. „Actually, no. Almost never. Except for photos. My mother was always eager to give the impression of the perfect couple.“

„My parents like to kiss“, Timmy stated. „Guess it‘s hereditary.“

„It certainly affects your own attitude towards kissing. Can you imagine there was a time when children never witnessed intimacy between their parents? Or any other adults, in fact. I don‘t want to say I‘d be delighted to bring Victorian moral standards back, but it‘s not that long that we are as free in our expressions of love and affection as we are used to. And before the 19th century – as far as we can tell by paintings, letters, diaries, literature – kissing and intimacy were a very private thing in certain circles. Let‘s remember there were huge differences among classes. We tend to forget how severe the impacts of the class system were. But the upper classes, nobility, royalty certainly refrained from any public display of affection.“

Timmy nodded. Armand noticed with a certain pang of regret that they had settled into the same official and proper seating arrangement as in their serious talk on Friday, he behind his desk, Timmy on the chair reserved for visitors in front of him. Too much desk between them. He missed Timmy‘s playfulness and bluntness. Also, he seemed so calm. No fidgeting, no dangling, no swinging. But it helped Armand definitely to appear more professional. When Timmy stared at him and cocked his head askingly, Armand noticed he‘d been silent for too long. Timmy asked sweetly:

„You seemed far away.“

„Sorry, I was, I was.“

„This colour is very becoming on you. Your eyes are bluer than ever.“

Armand touched his pumpkin jacket – a rather bold choice for him – and tried to hide his joy over the compliment.

„Thanks. I was – remembering I forgot to ask you about Friday. I mean, congratulations on your next movie! That‘s wonderful news!“ Timmy beamed and nodded. „And – the coffee shop, did that go well? Was Lily-Rose cooperative?“

„Actually yes, I was so relieved, I can tell you...“

Armand nodded. Now it was he who needed some swivelling and fidgeting. He pressed his hands together, allowed himself some swinging with his chair until he continued:

„When you appeared on the red carpet in Venice, you were a true king. Noble, elegant, impeccable. Too beautiful to be real.“ Armand stopped and looked at Timmy. He was still too beautiful to be real, even in his dark sweater with the white stripes and his everyday clothes. „You were on your way to become a new icon, a true god. And then – boom.“ Armand‘s hands dove down in a swift motion. Timmy flinched. „You know the old story: the higher you are, the deeper the fall. And the masses cheer. Because you are finally one of them.“ „I know“, Timmy said softly. „Let‘s put you on the pedestal again, shall we?“, Armand tried to make him smile. „I‘m not sure I need a pedestal. Can‘t I be just, like, normal?“ Timmy asked, genuinely troubled. „No. Because you are far above „normal“ due to your talent. You deserve a special place. Don‘t be afraid to claim it. If you want to have class. Good offers. A reputation of being wise in your choices and playing in a certain league.“

„I don‘t want to be too removed from my fans.“

„It‘s your choice. Be remote because they despise you due to an embarrassing situation on a boat, or be remote and admired because you are a role model for them?“

Timmy frowned. He sighed: „I‘m afraid right now it‘s all for the damage control. You suggest I behave more – subdued? Discreet?“

„Come here, would you?“ Armand moved his chair to the side to make room for Timmy next to him. Timmy got up. „Bring your chair.“ While Timmy settled himself beside him, Armand was busy with his computer. He was well aware of the lithe body next to him and the faint whiff of a light, airy perfume. When he looked at Timmy – still so unusually obedient and silent – he found him in a pensive gaze.

„Everything all right with you?“

„Not sure“, Timmy answered. „Are we – remote also? Is something different between us?“

„Well, I thought we had covered this on Friday...“

„I think I miss something. It‘s such a waste to be so good around you.“ He said it with true regret. His velvety lips rested fully on each other. A certain curl had been keeping falling into his forehead all morning long, and when he smoothed it back in an enchanting, elegant gesture, Armand needed all restraint not to follow those long white fingers, touch the soft curl and stroke the smooth cheek. Armand leaned back in his chair and looked at Timmy, equally calm and pensive. He looked much too long, he knew it, but said as kindly as he could:

„Our‘s is a business relationship, Tim. It‘s better that way. I mean, if you behave.“ Timmy grunted and pursed his lips. 

„And if our business here is over?“

Armand shook his head silently: „I‘ve got strict rules. No clients, no students. Ever. I‘ve got a reputation to lose.“

„I don‘t know if I should tell you that but – you were in my dream last night.“

„Don‘t“, Armand begged. But he thought: you were in my dreams also, but I could never tell you what we did and what your lips did to me and your fingers and your magnificent thighs… He closed his eyes and sighed. When he opened them again, Timmy looked dreamily at him:

„Though I couldn‘t tell you this dream because… no Victorian morals there. You‘d be appalled.“ He smirked. Armand couldn‘t hide a smile:

„Then please don‘t tell me. And don‘t dream it, even better.“

Timmy smiled sadly. Some seconds ticked between them. Timmy tried again:

„And if I weren‘t your client? Suppose we had met somewhere – in the park.“ He looked at Armand with large, expectant eyes. Armand evaded his gaze, turned slightly and muttered:

„You are making things very difficult for me.“

Timmy‘s lips shot upwards when he recognized the quote:

„You remember what happened shortly afterwards, don‘t you?“ 

„Oh no!“, Armand groaned, got up straight and ruffled his hair. Timmy seemed amused:

„Freudian slip, isn‘t it?“

Armand smiled defeated and whispered:

„Don‘t. Please don‘t.“

„I just miss our former closeness.“

„We are still as close as before. But we need the distance, you see.“

Timmy stared at him, wordlessly and certainly without any ulterior motives but seductive as hell in his relaxed, shining beauty. Armand got up, paced the room, tapping his wrist with a pencil he had groped from his desk and started:

„When you promoted your movie in Venice, you were royalty. The whole world acknowledged you as a legitimate king – king of fashion, king of androgynity, king of a new kind of sensitive man not afraid of his female side. Let‘s make you royal again.“

„Would you stop this fidgeting and pacing? You‘re making me nervous“, Timmy complained with raised eyebrows, repeating almost the same words that had been directed at himself only days before. 

„Sorry.“ Armand returned to the desk, perched on it next to Timmy and continued:

„Think of the British Royals. Have you ever seen them kissing? Apart from the official wedding kiss?“ Timmy shook his head. „Making out in any other way? Appearing insufficiently clothed? Hugging and smooching?“

„Never“, Timmy stated. „I hope they are allowed to behind closed doors, though.“ „Guess so“, Armand smiled. Timmy laid his hand on the still fidgeting pencil in Armand‘s hand. He didn‘t say anything, but his pale hand rested shortly on Armand‘s wool-clad thigh. Armand swallowed.

„What I think of is“ - he sounded a bit too loud all of a sudden - „a royal sort of elegance and restraint. Think of the Windsors. But also – Fifties movie icons like?“

Armand opened his arms invitingly and looked at Timmy.

„Grace Kelly?“, his student tried.

„Perfect. Wonderful.“ Armand beamed. „Maybe – Audrey Hepburn?“ „Yes, of course, she‘s great also, but maybe a bit on the too sweet and cute side. But - yes, her innocence and cleanness could be something to work towards. Any male role models?“

„No.“

„No?“ Armand asked incredulous. Timmy tried to soothe him:

„Charlie Chaplin? Or – Buster Keaton?“

„Not acting models, you… No, I meant models of conduct.“

„Oh, Ingrid Bergmann, how about her?“

„Yes, of course, she‘s wonderfully elegant and noble. But no man, if you care to realize.“

„Maybe I don‘t want a male role model. I can just behave elegant and noble, wouldn‘t that be enough?“

„Brian explicitly asked for you to take a more active, leading part next time. You know? To avoid certain vibes?“

„Speaking of – may I ask one more question?“

„As long as it‘s work – related...“

„It isn‘t but I was wondering – did you ever break your own rule regarding your interaction with clients?“

„Timothée!“

„Sorry...“

Armand shot him a punitive glance:

„I didn‘t even go as far as discussing those matters with my clients. Please respect my privacy.“

Timmy leaned slightly, but noticeably sideways and was very close to Armand‘s legs and hand:

„This time, it was you crossing into my very own personal space. Just for the record.“

Armand pressed his lips together, got up with a half-smile and returned to his chair:

„At least you paid attention in our lessons… So, let‘s get on with it. You don‘t want to be the glorious leading man. But you shouldn‘t be a – you know what I mean.“

„Bottom?“

Armand sighed. „To avoid those vibes, let‘s imagine you are the young prince. Timid, inexperienced, very gallant. Play out all your chivalry. Do it old-fashioned. Think even farther back than the Fifties. Maybe – late 19th century even. Woo the innocent, virginal damsel...“

Timmy broke out in loud laughter, looked at Armand‘s surprised face and cackled even more. He bent over, pounded his fist on the table and gasped:

„Lily-Rose an innocent virgin? You want to kill me?“ His smirking pink face beamed upwards at Armand. „I‘m dying!“, he gasped again. „I can‘t!“ He threw himself back in his chair, held his stomach and nearly hiccuped.

„What‘s so funny?“ Armand asked.

„Come on, she almost raped me. In full sight of the whole world. Had she gone any farther, I‘d broken that rail I clutched on. Boy, I was so scared she‘d ride me then and there. Really. She has no inhibitions.“

„Which could be a good thing. In certain situations.“

„Maybe. But – you mean I should just kiss her hand or something, gallantly? I‘d have to try hard to forget her ass in that slutty bikini...“

„Yes, please do. Work on forgetting that, all right? As we all should. From now on, she‘s the innocent girl. The virgin with the unicorn. And you treat her accordingly. Almost no touching, but a strong sense of desire to finally touch her. When she finally gives in and allows you to...“

Timmy giggled. He could neither stop nor control it and pressed a hand over his mouth. But his eyes still sparkled.

Timmy calmed himself eventually. They worked out a nice little repertoire of gestures and interactions that would seem intimate and suggestive but not too telling. All might have been taken straight from a 19th century novel: a kiss on the wrist, a long look into each other‘s eyes without any touching, and as peak of audacity possibly a brushed kiss on a naked shoulder, maybe even from behind to give the photograpers a perfect view of both of them. A naked shoulder was to be expected, according to Timmy. Timmy complied and affirmed that he‘d deliver those little choreographies to Armand‘s fullest satisfaction, but he was concerned if he‘d get Lily-Rose into the boat. 

„Take her to a bagel shop and talk it through“, Armand suggested drily.

„I‘d love to take you to a bagel shop“, Timmy sighed.


	7. Midnight

Armand spent the evening of the Lagerfeld gala with a visiting colleague, taking him to a steak dinner and going over their notes for a joint lecture at the upcoming conference in Kopenhagen. When his colleague excused himself, Armand checked his phone quickly: the first pictures tumbled in, apparently from before the gala. Timmy, again in the luminous silver suit from Venice („Brian is raging – he wanted me to represent at least a French designer. But I felt so good in this suit. And what a waste to wear it just once?“), offered Lily-Rose a chivalrous arm. Lily-Rose wore a black-and-white Lagerfeld creation of the Nineties with elaborate details on the shoulders. They acted as a natural barrier between them. Armand was secretly glad for Timmy. He noticed his colleague approaching their desk again and scrolled quickly to one more photo: perfect, a soulful, warm glance from Timmy straight to Lily-Rose. He held the suggested eye-contact. Lily-Rose was captured from behind and you could see all the love in Timmy‘s beautiful eyes. If Armand hadn‘t known better, he might have deduced the wildest things from that romantic glance. Timmy really was a great actor. Or – was he? Armand felt a sudden bitter bite of jealousy when he closed his phone.

Back home, he changed his jacket for an old sweater over his dark jeans, fixed himself a drink and settled himself on the couch with his tablet. When logging on to tumblr, he quickly asked himself if he already showed signs of an addictive behaviour – not to tumblr, but to Timmy – or if this was still work-related. It was Friday night, after all. He could be elsewhere enjoying himself. He probably should be… But after seeing the first pictures, he was hooked and couldn‘t stop. Allegedly checking if their kissing lessons had had any success, he allowed himself to stare at Timmy. Even surrounded by bunches of models, he drew all attention to himself. There was an astounding amount of photos of him, often alone also. He was a favourite with the crowd of photographers. Or did Brian choreograph this? Anyway, he seemed less endangered to be assaulted by Lily-Rose again. The carefully staged photos of the two of them together were more than perfect. They seemed close, very close, but almost never touched. Their eye-contact was impeccable. One particular photo was reblogged already now dozens of time: Lily-Rose was sitting at one of the round tables set for dinner, Timmy stood next to her, looked at her adoringly and kissed the air above her hand which he held tenderly. Armand flinched at the comments („Finally engaged?“ „The French couple“ „Lagerfeld muse: „I hope Chanel are as loyal to our children as they were to my mother and me“ „Wedding in France?“„Laurie!!!!“), but felt very content. He‘d had no doubt about Timmy‘s acting abilities, but Timmy‘s art of persuasion and commuication with Lily-Rose earned him even greater praise.

Armand took a sip from his glass, yawned and opened the page of a guy he occasionally met. It being Friday, he might have posted something new about his outings which were always hilarious. Armand thought briefly about going out again. He had worked a lot, been good, much too good, and maybe a bit of relaxing sex… His phone pinged. Oh, maybe it was Tom? Armand‘s stir of excitement died when he saw it was a message from Brian: „It‘s a wrap! Everything perfect, Timmy on his way home. Will send a case of whiskey. Thanks a lot!“ Armand smiled. He suddenly felt tired, what with the week behind him, the wine with dinner… Just when he decided to call it a night, his phone started to ring. An unknown number. Armand frowned. But – could it be this guy he‘d met two weeks ago? He took the call and heard a dark, excited voice:

„Hey man, I survived! I did it! Did you see the photos already?“

Armand, flooded by a sudden happiness, smiled and settled himself on his sofa again:

„I did, I did. You looked perfect. Also – Lily-Rose and you together. Just perfect. Congratulations!“

„I‘m so glad I‘m out of the thing. Listen, bro, I know it‘s late but can I ask you a big favor?“

„Sure, what‘s up?“

„I need to go dancing. Immediately. I really need to go to a club right now to let off steam, you know? But Haider will kill me if I ruin his suit. I was wondering if you could lend me a change of clothes? You are on the Upper West Side, aren‘t you? I‘m right around the corner.“

„Oh“, Armand tried to play for time. „We are not the same size, I‘m afraid. I don‘t know if I can help you.“ The idea of Timmy in his apartment, close to midnight and just the two of them, suddenly scared him. 

„Just any t-shirt will do. I mainly need a place to deposit Haider‘s clothes safely, you see? Otherwise, I‘d just go out and buy a shirt.“

Timmy undressing in his place, Timmy naked in his bedroom… No. But he heard himself saying:

„All right, I‘ll look for something. Here‘s my address.“

*

Only minutes later, his door-bell rang. Armand opened and found Timmy in his silver suit in his hallway – the most surreal apparition ever. A dream come true. Armand blinked to make sure Timmy was real, but he already felt long, lanky arms being thrown around his shoulder and soft, wild curls tickling his cheek.

„You‘re the best, man! Sorry to disturb you that late. You weren‘t in bed, though, were you?“ He shook his head and led Timmy into his place. „What does the great sexologist do on a Friday night? I always wanted to know!“

„Fall asleep on my sofa with a beer in my hand“, Armand stated. Timmy grinned:

„Sounds exciting. Why don‘t you go out with me? Come on, let‘s do it! Let‘s have some fun together! We worked hard, we deserve it!“ Timmy had started to hop and bounce around him, even groped for one of his hands. His hands were warm and soft. Was he high? Tipsy, definitely.

„No, thanks, but – no. I‘m fagged. Are you all right? What did you drink?“

Timmy smirked and came dangerously close to Armand‘s face: „Just a little“ - he indicated how little with his hands - „champagne“, he finished with raised eyebrows. „But only afterwards. As you suggested. Because I want to be your good boy.“ Timmy leaned his cheek against Armand‘s and groped for his waist. Armand quickly let his hand wander over the astonishing double silver belt – he had wanted to touch the belt, touch this delicate waist from the first moment he saw the Venice pictures – and held Timmy for a few seconds before he pushed him gently away:

„Why don‘t you call it a night. Go home and get your beauty sleep.“

Timmy hung limply in his arm. Without wanting it, Armand held his swaying figure, fearing he might collapse. Timmy‘s face was awfully close to his. His eyes sparkled, his opened lips were moist and glistened invitingly. Armand pushed him away again. Timmy smirked:

„I‘m not that drunk. Just putting up a show for you.“ He raised an eyebrow. His hands wandered over Armand‘s shoulders. „But I‘m drunk enough to invite you again to go dancing with me. Come on.“ He started to move his hips, his hands still on Armand‘s shoulders. He was pure seduction. Pure beauty also, mixed with a certain naughtiness and lack of inhibition Armand found terribly enchanting. Timmy undulated his hips slower, closed his eyes and threw his head back. Armand gently took his hands from his shoulders, held them a moment and said:

„I‘m too old to go out at this time of the night.“

„Nonsense! And you don‘t need any beauty rest because you already are“ - Timmy searched for his eyes deliberately - „very beautiful. And that‘s why I want to dance with you tonight. Come on, let‘s get wild!“

Armand shook his head. Timmy didn‘t give up:

„Then how about we dance here? Let‘s get wasted here, why don‘t we?“

„That‘s not a good idea at all. I think you should go home and sleep.“ Timmy pouted. „Or I‘ll get you that shirt you asked for. But – no party in my apartment, I‘m sorry. Here, have this...“

Armand freed himself of Timmy‘s clinging embrace, walked the few steps into his tiny, narrow kitchen and fetched Timmy a glass of water. Timmy had followed him:

„Drink this. Take a deep breath. Dance somewhere else. I‘ll get you that shirt.“

He heard Timmy‘s voice still from the kitchen:

„This your grandpa‘s place?“

Armand shouted „Yes!“ from his bedroom. The apartment had last been professionally designed in the late Eighties when his father used to stay here. The style was dated, but Armand liked it anyway. Dark, masculine colours, lots of built-in shelves and closets of the highest quality along with some pre-war pieces originating from his grandpa‘s days gave the place a sombre, warm atmosphere. Perfect for cocooning in a loud and busy city like Manhattan. Thick curtains shut all the noise out. Various design-oriented friends had more or less discreetly hinted at the need of a more modern make-over, but Armand liked the memories and the style of a different, old-world era the apartment represented. „It‘s lovely. I like it. Cozy.“ Timmy‘s voice came nearer. Armand rummaged his dresser – Benny had left some stuff months ago, where was it?

„That‘s your study?“

„Plus guest room, yeah. Has morning sun. I like to write in there.“

Timmy‘s voice was even closer when he asked: 

„And that‘s your family, all those photos here in the hallway?“

„Right. Also the house my great-grandparents lived in in Russia, look here.“ Armand had finally found the black t-shirt he had been looking for and held it in his hands when he joined Timmy in the hallway.

„They came from Russia?“ Armand nodded. When Timmy looked over his shoulder into his softly lit bedroom, he tried to block the door but Timmy shoved him gently away and entered the bedroom:

„Oh, I always wanted to see a sexologist‘s bedroom! Say – looks rather tame. I expected...“ 

Having Timmy in his bedroom was the last thing on earth he needed. How could he ever find sleep in here again? He held out the crumpled shirt and tried to steer Timmy again into the hallway. Timmy saw the shirt and said „Right, thanks“. He put the glass on the dresser and started to grope around himself to open the elaborate belt. He fidgeted helplessly until he asked:

„Would you please? I‘m not familar with this kind of – cummerbund or belt or whatever.“ He turned around and looked at Armand over his shoulder.

„Gosh, I‘ve got no experience with designer clothes. Can‘t I destroy anything?“

„Just go gently...“, Timmy suggested. Armand swallowed. Damn it. He had a situation here, right in his bedroom, and needed to manoeuver himself out of it as fast as possible.


	8. Midnight II

„Feel around a bit“, Timmy said. „There are three tiny hooks somewhere.“

„Oh my god“, Armand sighed.

„Nervous? It‘s all right. We all are at our first time. Just – go easy, but don‘t forget to give it a good push at the right moment“, Timmy said over his shoulder.

„Shut up. Just – shut up!“ Armand felt tense. Not only had he Timmy, lovely and beautiful and willing to celebrate wildly, just inches from his bed, but he also had this damned piece of extremely expensive clothing – suddenly, the belt dangled in his hands. It was heavier than he had expected. Smoother also. Pure silky smooth. 

„Here you go!“, he held it up for Timmy to see. „Great, thanks!“ When Timmy turned, his jacket fell open. Armand stopped him: „Let me see. So it‘s true what some fashion critics wrote? No buttons, no zips?“ Armand slightly touched the hems of the jacket. „They wrote about that?“ „Yes, calling it more of a ladies‘s evening gown than a tux. Because your are all wrapped up and wrapped in without the traditional ways of fastening anything.“ Armand touched the shining, soft belt again before laying it carefully onto the bed. „That‘s right. Feels good but it‘s a pain getting in and out of this thing. Doesn‘t work without any assistance. Haider wrapped me all up because he has got a certain technique of tying flat, smooth bows.“ He carefully took off his jacket and turned to put it on the bed, continuing „I might manage with this shirt, but would you...“

He was stopped by Armand who said in an amused and incredulous voice:

„Well, well, well. Mr Chalamet, hold on for a minute. I – I can‘t. It‘s really backless?“

Timmy was getting up straighter again but was stopped by Armand from turning all the way round. He smiled over his shoulder while Armand gently held him at the hips.

„Of course it is. Jacket falls more elegantly, at least in Haider‘s opinion, if there‘s not too much under it.“

„Well, there certainly isn‘t“, Armand stated. Timmy‘s naked back shone like mother-of-pearl in the dim bedroom. The silver shirt or whatever was fastened with three silk ribbons: one around the neck, one around the waist and one in between, gently holding the softly falling fabric in place on Timmy‘s perfect body. And Haider had had the pleasure to wrap the boy in his own creation. Armand‘s head buzzed. 

„I‘m sorry but I need to have a good look at that for purely scientific reasons. You know.“ Timmy turned around and smirked at Armand with flashing eyes. Armand saw the reflection of the porcelain, almost naked back in the mirror in front of him. „Because – male evening wear like this deserves a chapter of it‘s own in the book I‘m going to write – whenever I can think straight again.“ Armand felt dizzy. He was torn between professional distance and his duty to get the boy out of the door as quickly as possibly, especially all covered up to avoid assaults on the street, and an overwhelming desire to look at him for hours, to touch and caress this silky, naked back and more. Damn it. It was Friday night, they both had had some booze, they both needed a bit of fun after a full week – why couldn‘t he have met this stunning creature somewhere else?

„Turn around for me once more, would you?“

Timmy‘s lips were open and glistening when he nodded slowly. He did as he was told, very slowly, deliberately sensual, and even raised one arm gracefully after the half turn. His waist seemed even longer and skinnier in this pose. When he faced Armand again, he raised his eyebrows and smiled shily:

„Well?“

„It‘s – breathtaking. I don‘t know what to say.“

Timmy searched for his eyes: „Why don‘t we just stay here. Get all cozy. Wait for your ability to speak again.“

„No.“ Armand graced him with a sweet, but firm glance and shook his head before looking into the mirror again. He saw his shoulders and face over Timmy‘s almost naked shoulders before his eyes wandered over Timmy‘s bare, smooth back again. 

„I can feel your gaze. Almost getting goose-bumps from it“, Timmy whispered.

„Then you must be unusually sensitive. I‘m just looking into the mirror.“ Timmy nodded with closed eyes: „I feel you anyway.“

Armand drew in a sharp breath. Timmy opened his eyes and said as if in trance:

„I wish we had met somewhere else. I wish you could just...“

Armand needed all restraint to be sensible. But he had to. He was older, the kid had been entrusted to him, he had a reputation to lose. He whispered:

„I‘m really sorry, Tim. But we can‘t. All right?“ Timmy tentatively searched for his hand. Armand brushed it quickly and let it go again. They sighed simultaneously. The tension was broken when they smiled.

„At least, could you help me to undress?“, Timmy asked. „I might manage, but...“

Armand nodded. When Timmy wanted to turn his back to him, he shook his head and implied with a gesture of his chin that Timmy was to face him. Timmy swayed slightly, grinned and looked into his eyes. Armand watched his hand in the mirror, praying to be sober enough not to touch Timmy‘s skin, and pulled the ends of the lowest ribbons that had been tucked into the pants free. He gently undid the bow. The ribbons dangled loose, heavy and silky like the belt. When he proceeded to the middle bow, Timmy closed his eyes and breathed in and out slowly and indulgently. Armand smiled. What a sensuous creature. Timmy felt his hesitation, opened his eyes and, with his head cocked slightly to the side, sighed:

„You are very good at undressing, Armand. I like to feel your eyes and hands on me.“

Armand leaned in and whispered into the curls: „Please. Stop tormenting me.“

Timmy leaned his head back even farther and sighed contentedly. Armand was short of kissing the swan-like neck and needed all his restraint to pull himself away again. He gently probed for the ribbons of the middle bow, untied them and pulled them open. When they hit Timmy‘s skin, he shuddered:

„It tickles!“

Armand stepped a little closer to reach around Timmy better and found the upper ties. His mind was too blank to give any thought of what might happen when he opened them – somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew some more nakedness might take place, but he went ahead anyway. When he had the end of the ribbons in his fingers, he closed his eyes shortly while pulling at the strings. His eyes flew open when he heard a sursprised, gasped „Oh!“ from Timmy. Tim‘s hands flew up and caught the slipping silk in front of his chest. Armand‘s lips curled. Now here was the shy virgin they had talked about… Timmy‘s shoulders were bony and delicate. His clavicles stood out under his white skin. Armand felt an unbearable urge to brush his lips over those tiny bones. 

Timmy looked at him silently and deliberately and let his hands slowly sink, the suddenly tiny amount of silk collapsing in his fingers. He stood naked from the waist up in front of Armand and seemed to wait. Armand took the silver silk from his hands and wondered aloud how little fabric it was. It felt like a larger handkerchief. He turned it around in his fingers, enjoying the sensuality of the heavy fine silk, until he put it next to the belt on the bed. Timmy still stood motionless. His eyes were dark and large, his lips almost dark red. How beautiful he was, Armand thought. He couldn‘t restrain himself much longer and asked:

„Please forgive me, but I need to...“ He leant down and kissed Timmy‘s right clavicle. His skin was cool, and Armand realized he must start to freeze, exposed as he was. When he heard Timmy moan softly, he allowed himself one more soft, full kiss of Timmy‘s neck next to his clavicle – more warmth there, and a pulsing vein under his lips. Timmy‘s tiny rosy nipples perked upwards even more. He swayed slightly. Armand felt a small hand on his waist. Timmy turned his face upwards and searched for his mouth hungily. Armand needed all his strength to turn away. He looked for the black t-shirt and handed it to Timmy:

„Cover yourself up. Your skin is all cold.“

Timmy blinked and needed some time to process his words. He seemed entranced, looked at him with moist, open lips, but took the shirt without any objections.

„You kissed me“, he whispered.

„Forgive me“, Armand said and tried to put some distance between them. The bedroom was too small. „Why don‘t you...“ Armand gestured towards the bunch of cotton in Timmy‘s fingers.

Timmy nodded. He looked down, fiddled with the shirt and pulled it over his head. He shook his curls and smoothed the shirt down his torso.

„Sorry, it‘s some – souvenir or something. From Amsterdam, obviously.“

Armand touched the small Amsterdam-logo over Timmy‘s chest.

„Your‘s?“

„No. Some ex.“

Timmy smiled sadly: „Lucky ex. At least I guess he was allowed to...“ Armand silenced him with his index finger on the velvety lips. Timmy‘s shoulders lifted before Armand felt the soft press of his warm, full lips on his finger. Timmy closed his eyes, opened them again with a sudden sense of decision and asked:

„Could you lend me some shirt? It‘s chilly outside.“ Armand nodded, turned around to a chair and took a mustard-and-black plaid shirt. He watched Timmy shrug inside it. It was much too large for him, but he smiled:

„Feels good and soft.“

Armand smiled. The skinny figure seemed even taller in the shirt. 

„Give me your hand“, he demanded.

He looked at him askingly when Armand took his arm and started to hitch the sleeve up.Timmy‘s fingers had been completely covered by the fabric. He patiently held his arm out until Armand was finished and then offered the other one.

„Thanks“, he mumbled. 

„What can we do about your pants? I‘m afraid I really cannot help you here.“

Timmy thought for a moment and asked:

„Do you have some sort of work-out shorts?“

„Shorts? With your boots?“

Timmy shrugged. Armand grinned:

„Haider will get palpitations.“ But he found a pair of black, baggy shorts, handed them to Timmy who had started to take his shoes off, and left the room. He had just poured himself some more whiskey in the living room and taken the first sip when Timmy appeared in all his clownesque glory. Even the baggy, mismatching clothes couldn‘t diminish his beauty. He approached Armand with a grin on his face, took his tumbler out of his hand and had a generous sip. Armand smiled. He was glad their former ease was restored after the magical moments in the bedroom.

„So, you have fun. Be wild. But don‘t do anything I wouldn‘t do.“

„Not much left then, isn‘t it? Thanks, man. I owe you.“

„Nonsense. I was glad to help.“ 

When they had reached the door, Timmy suddenly hugged Armand hard and long. 

„I admire your strength. I wouldn‘t have it.“

Armand patted his lithe back and opened the door for him:

„You don‘t have to. You‘re allowed to have fun.“

Timmy blew him a bold kiss through the air and skipped down the hallway.

*

Before brushing his teeth, Armand hung the priceless silk jacket onto a hanger and put it on the door of his closet. He folded the trousers – Timmy was awfully thin, he‘d never fit in there – , arranged them also on a hanger and put the heavy soft belt over them. He held the shirt or whatever in his hands, clueless as how to store a seductive little garment like that. It felt lighter than a woman‘s underwear and slid through his fingers like water. Without wanting it, he raised it slowly and carefully to his face. He needed to feel it just once. Needed to feel how silk felt on skin. A light whiff of Timmy‘s scent swirled around his nose, the same one that had played around the jacket when he had hung it. Armand closed his eyes. He missed Timmy already now.

He deliberately didn‘t put the glass Timmy had left on the dresser away. The glass and the suit shimmered like silver in the faint light of a lamp on the street outside his window when he tried to fall asleep.


	9. Getting papped again

When Armand blinked in the dim morning light, the first thing he saw was the legendary silver suit hanging on his closet door. It seemed to gleam from within, even without Timmy‘s warm presence filling and elevating it. Armand sighed, rolled over once more and closed his eyes again. He had slept wonderfully. It was easier to dream of Timmy when his clothes were here and the faintest trace of his perfume graced the air. Timmy…

Their professional relationship was over, he reckoned, after the flawless photos yesterday night. Would he come to say goodbye? He seemed sweet, but, after all, he was extremely in demand. Who knew if he‘d even be in town the next days. He would wait until Monday and ask Brian about the suit. He didn‘t mind to write off his own clothes.

On his way to the kitchen, Armand quickly stroked one arm of the suit and swirled the seductive little nothing of a shirt around Timmy‘s glass on his dresser. After having enjoyed the touch, he arranged it in shining layers around the half-filled water glass. A pool of moonlight, shimmering in water… Well, coffee now. Checking the photos again. For purely professional reasons, of course. A run in the park and getting groceries before he worked on his Kopenhagen speech.

Settled at his small oval dining table, Armand enjoyed the first sip of hot coffee before opening his account. He gasped and couldn‘t believe his eyes: instead of the tender, innocent photos from the gala his dash was flooded with Timmy dancing wildly. The pictures were of poor quality, but it was Timmy, without a doubt. Timmy dancing uninhibitedly in some dark, strangely lit club. With two boys. Armand groaned. What jerk had photographed him there? This was – this was more than a disaster. This was – Armand couldn‘t find a word for it and stared at a picture of Timmy, sandwiched between two boys his age, all three of them smiling and hopping along. One of Timmy‘s arms was raised and searched for the boy‘s hands in the air, his other arm pressed the dark haired boy against him. Flush. Stomachs flush, as he himself had suggested. But very obviously not only the stomachs – one of the next pictures showed Timmy grinding with closed eyes into the dark haired one while the other one, one hand on Timmy‘s hip, pounded Timmy‘s ass. Good lord. Armand scrolled nervously down to check if those might have been a mistake, just two, three painful shots which could be erased if they were quick enough. But his dash was literally bursting with pictures of Timmy‘s very private after-party. The one of Timmy in a threesome obviously had gone viral and was reblogged countless times. But it got worse: there were shots of Timmy and the blond guy in even more intimate action. They danced, Timmy totally in trance with his head thrown back, flopping curls and opened lips, and, even worse, they were caught when making out heavily. There was one of Timmy with his back to the photographer, nailing the guy against the wall and kissing him. The guy‘s hands slipped into Timmy‘s pants. Armand groaned loudly: he hadn‘t known that the back of the damn Amsterdam-shirt sported a rainbow flag. He flinched. How could he. He had given this shirt to Timmy, who clearly had no eyes in his back and had trusted him. This was hell.

On another photo, Timmy perched on a bar chair, his legs slung around the boy. His naked skinny knees shone, his feet in the black high boots graced the guy‘s ass. And they kissed as if there was no tomorrow. As several shots from different angles proved. Now, this Timmy right here needed no kissing lessons, Armand thought bitterly. His hands were all over the guy, on his back, under his shirt, on his ass, in his hair. There was an almost obscene one of their two tongues playing with each other‘s outside their mouths. Armand flinched. He shoved his tablet away. His pulse was racing, but he took another sip of his cooling coffee anyway. Timmy had managed to ruin their work of three weeks in just one night. The damage was irredeemable. The PR-artist glossing over something like that had yet to be born. 

Armand let himself fall back in his chair and stared in the air. He checked the clock in the hallway – not even eight. Too early to call Timmy. Who knew when he had come home. If he came home at all. Armand got up. The kid was grown-up, actually. He could do whatever he liked. Armand was not his guardian. He decided to give him some time to get over the worst hangover and call him later.

During his run in the chilly, crisp fall air in the park, Armand noticed a strange sense of elation instead of devastation. He didn‘t feel guilty. Apart from having Timmy given the abominable shirt, that is. He had done his job. The pictures of Timmy and the French girl were as Brian had ordered them. And the other ones: Armand felt light and actually relieved to see Timmy that happy. Despite the disastrous consequences it might have for his career – here he was true to himself. Happy. Completely himself. No trout kisses, no awkward fiddling. This was just a guy who finally did what he liked. And he looked more beautiful and confident than on any staged photo. Armand was torn between cheering Timmy and racking his brain as how to control the damage. But with every bouncing step, he felt better. They‘d work it out. And, if not, the incident gave Timmy the chance to start a private life according to his own inclinations. He could come back to acting possibly later on. There‘d be a solution.

Entering his kitchen, Armand saw there was a missed call. Timmy. He called back before even putting the milk and eggs into the fridge. Timmy sounded tired and muted:

„Are we still on speaking terms?“

„Why, of course! How are you?“

„When you didn‘t take my call I thought you hated me.“ He sounded desperate.

„Timmy, why should I?“

„You saw the pics? I mean, after…?“

„Yes. It‘s a mess, but why should I hate you? You are not responsible that some idiot took them, in the first place, and published them. Sorry, by the way. How do you feel?“

„Awful. Brian woke me. With the news.“ Timmy sighed. „I don‘t know what to do. I blasted all the good work we did together. I really apologize.“

„Why – the pictures are the best proof you never needed any kissing lessons. It was all a charade.“

Timmy was silent. When he spoke again, he sounded even more devastated:

„I don‘t want us to be a charade.“ Armand was touched. „Will you ever talk to me again?“

„We already do, silly. I think you‘re still a bit overhung, aren‘t you?“

„Came back around five“, Timmy groaned.

„Why don‘t you...“, Armand tried but was interrupted: „I know it‘s a lot to ask, but I don‘t know where to go. I can‘t handle Brian right now and he might turn up later on.“

„Grab your toothbrush and a change of clothes and come over“, Armand said without thinking.

„You sure?“

„Yeah. Got a bit of work to do, but you won‘t disturb me. I‘ll cook for you.“

„Wow. I don‘t know what to say. Thanks.“

Timmy showed up half an hour later, still in Armand‘s mustard plaid shirt, big sunglasses and a cap. He plunked down his bagpack, slipped out of his green boots and collapsed on Armand‘s sofa. He moaned that he didn‘t know how to survive this. Armand gently spread a woolen blanket over Timmy, patted his shoulder and told him to get some sleep. Timmy nodded with closed eyes and seemed already to be gone.

Armand went about this day as noiselessly as possible. Whenever he traipsed from his study to the kitchen to get some coffee, he glanced into his living room. Timmy slept soundly, in different fetal positions, while the sunlight wandered through the room. It felt good to have him here, even if the reason for his presence wasn‘t a pleasant one.

Around noon, he heard shuffling steps and water running in the kitchen. Soon afterwards, Timmy appeared in the door to his study, rumpled, with floppy hair, sleepy eyes and still not entirely awake.

„Sleeping beauty“, Armand greeted him. Timmy groaned. He sat down on the queen size guest bed heavily and looked at Armand:

„Can we ever fix that?“

Armand shrugged his shoulders. He had his doubts, to be honest. „Depends on what you mean by „fixing“.“

„No studio will ever book me again. You know the narratives they want.“

„Maybe it‘s time for the studios to acknowledge reality. Maybe you can be the forerunner for your colleagues.“

„Why me“, Timmy groaned exhausted.

„I‘m sorry“, Armand tried to soothe him. „What you‘re suffering from is the discrepancy between the life you lead and the one you want to be leading.“ Timmy pursed his lips but bit down a sarcastic remark. „We, or better you, cannot sort this out in one afternoon. What happened last night seems like a catastrophe. But it might also be a chance for you to – well, you know. You are intelligent. Take your time to think this over. And don‘t think your career is over. You started only a few years ago. You‘d have to do quite different things to get really ostracized. You can write this possibly off as youthful“ - Armand scratched his cheek and searched for words - „youthful whatever. Ten years from now, no-one will talk about it.“

„Ten years?“, Timmy wailed. He looked at Armand desperately.

„And concerning Brian...“, Armand continued. „I always get the impression you don‘t see the whole picture. Think about who works for whom. Who is dependent on whom. Even after this incident, there would be dozens of agents keen on working with you. And if you stick with him – well, reverse the roles. You know what I mean?“

Timmy nodded, emptied his glass and asked:

„Do you hate me?“

Armand shook his head: „No. Told you already.“ Timmy seemed lost in thought until Armand asked if he was hungry – Timmy shook his head – or wanted to take a bath. This was greeted with enthusiasm. When Armand got up to show him everything in the bathroom, Timmy faced him and said miserably: 

„I should have stayed here last night.“

„At least there are no paps in my bedroom. But it was me who sent you away, remember. Believe me, I had my fair share of guilt. Should have sent you home. Because...“

„Can I stay tonight?“

Armand nodded. Timmy asked:

„And we‘ll manage, won‘t we? I promise to behave. I just want to have a place...“

„Of course“, Armand calmed him.


	10. Getting papped again II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn‘t notice how noon melted into afternoon. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that Timmy had fallen asleep again. He smiled. Catching up on sleep would do wonders.

Armand tried not to get distracted by the noise from his bathroom and not to imagine Timmy, lovely, beautiful Timmy, naked in his tub. Naked in front of his mirror. When he heard the hair dryer, he tried not to ask himself if Timmy dried his hair before or after putting clothes on. He had barely gotten any work done despite being alone and undistracted in the room. But he had fixed another pot of coffee, put a glass of orange juice and a yoghurt and a banana next to it and called in Timmy‘s direction when he heard him leaving the bathroom that he could eat anything he liked in the kitchen. 

Timmy appeared shortly after that, in a light grey sweater and black sweat pants, his phone and a glass of juice in his hands. „Do you mind if I stay in here? Don‘t want to be alone.“ When Armand mumbled „Go ahead“, Timmy got the blanket from the living room, quickly hugged Armand from behind – his cheek was warm, his hair smelled fresh and clean - and curled himself up on the guest bed. He scrolled through his phone, frowning and curling his lips as if in disgust. Armand watched him, but thought better than telling him to put the phone down. He‘d done the same thing himself. 

With Timmy in the room, Armand suddenly found the right pace for his writing and editing. Usually, he preferred to work in solitude, but today, Timmy‘s presence was inspiring and calming. He didn‘t notice how noon melted into afternoon. When he looked over his shoulder, he saw that Timmy had fallen asleep again. He smiled. Catching up on sleep would do wonders.

Around four, Armand got hungry. He checked tumblr one last time. Great. Two pictures opposed and subtitled: „Chanel muse hopes for children while fiancé is otherwise engaged“. For heaven‘s sake. He felt for Timmy. His chair creaked and must have woken Timmy because he heard a soft moan from the bed. „Sorry“, he said and went over to sit next to Timmy. He moaned again, as if coming from deep dreams. Armand couldn‘t but touch the bony shoulder. He stroked Timmy gently. His eyelids fluttered, but he kept them closed when he whispered: „Don‘t stop, please.“ Armand smiled. He was torn, but – this was a normal reaction, wasn‘t it? To a friend in need? Timmy wordlessly crept nearer, pulling the blanket with him, and asked:

„I know we are all about distance and stuff, but could you go on a bit? It feels so good.“

Armand let his hands wander to Timmy‘s delicate, slim neck and gently scratched his scalp. Timmy‘s head fell forward, allowing him better access to his shoulders. Armand painted circles and spirals on Timmy‘s back. He felt wonderful himself but knew he had to stop soon.

„Feels so good“, Timmy mumbled. He opened his eyes: „I had lots of sex last night, but nothing like that. You know?“ Armand flinched. Timmy raised his head: „Sorry, shouldn‘t I say this? Did I offend you?“ Armand shook his head and knead Timmy‘s shoulder again. „Because – you know that, don‘t you, I would have loved to have everything with you.“

„I know. And I explained to you why we cannot do this.“

„But now – I mean, I fucked up majorly. Just kick me out as a client. Let‘s start afresh.“

Armand gently patted his head down again and soothed Timmy‘s curls off his face. He didn‘t know why he allowed himself to caress his forehead, his cheeks, his hair again, but he would have done so also with a child. He suddenly felt an extreme wave of tenderness towards Timmy. Nothing erotic, nothing sexual. Just the need to give and soothe and nurture. Timmy closed his eyes again under his gentle administrations and asked:

„Maybe we can do just that? What you‘re doing right now? Like brothers or something?“

„I never saw any brothers cuddling like that. Thank god.“

„Friends, then.“

„Well. I don‘t know. It might be too easy to slip and cross the line unaware.“ But he stroked Timmy‘s cheek anyway. He didn‘t know what happened to him.

„Can‘t I be your pet tonight? Just a little cat or something. You‘d caress it, but there‘d be no sex“, Timmy tried with a cheeky smile.

Armand sighed with raised eyebrows. He tried to avoid an answer by telling Timmy he needed to print out his speech, if he didn‘t mind the noise. While the printer did his job, Armand returned to the bed, perched on the edge and asked Timmy what he‘d like to eat. Armand was amazed how good this felt – to have gotten quite far with his work, the prospect of a quiet Saturday evening at home and asking the person he‘d want to spend it most with what he desired to eat. This was bliss. 

While he prepared dinner, Timmy leaned in the door to the kitchen and told him he was thinking about disappearing for a few days. He needed to get away from everything, wanted some days to catch his breath and think about the whole situation before going off to Korea for promotion. He had checked several hotels and airbnbs while Armand had worked, but he feared to become paranoid already as he saw obstacles with every one of them: not remote enough, or too remote, or the owners were too young-looking and might know him. It was a curse but he couldn‘t go anywhere unrecognized these days. Especially theses days. And he craved absolute solitude.

„I have a cabin up in Maine. You‘re welcome to stay there.“

„What?“ Timmy had stopped fiddling with his glass of wine and stared at Armand.

„It really is lonely. As in lonely lonely. It‘s on a small lake. Practically no neighbours, next town about ten miles away. You should get groceries on your way there. There‘s a guy living what you call „around the corner“ out there who‘s looking after my house. I can call him and make arrangements.“

„Do you think he knows me?“

Armand stopped cutting some mushrooms and cocked his head:

„Actually, he might be one of the last people on earth not knowing you. He‘s very christian, you know.“

„But working for you anyway?“ Timmy smirked. „Does he know what you do?“

„I‘m not sure. I guess he checked, or maybe even not? He‘s a good soul, as is his wife. Maureen. They are about your age, but expecting their third child, as far as I know. They have other things to worry about. And the internet is quite shaky out there. If you don‘t mind?“

Timmy shook his head slowly: „Not at all. Sounds heavenly. I‘d love to get away from everything.“

„Well – you‘re welcome to stay there.“

„Can you come too?“

„No. I‘ve got work to do, and I‘m flying to Denmark Wednesday. I think it‘ll do you good to be alone for some days.“

Images of Timmy and him together in the cabin flashed through his mind. Together on the deck overlooking the quiet lake. Hiking through the woods. Lounging on the sofa in front of the fireplace at night. No. This wouldn‘t be advisable. And Timmy certainly would benefit from time alone in this heavenly place.

After dinner, Timmy asked to hear Armand‘s speech for the convention. Armand was surprised but grateful to have an opportunitiy to practice it, even if he wanted to add some changes, as he told Timmy when they arranged themselves on the sofa. Timmy had gotten his blanket from the guestroom, curled up in one corner of the sofa and rested his head on the back of the sofa, facing him. He looked calm and very beautiful and seemed truly eager to get to know his work. Armand started to read from his manuscript, a red pen in his hand and adding changes wherever he thought them necessary. When he interrupted himself again, Timmy remarked:

„You‘re your worst critic! To me, this sounds absolutely amazing and perfect. How come you still want to make it better?“

„Believe me, you see so much after you think it‘s finished. I know I‘ll add changes even on the plane.“

„I like the way you say things“, Timmy quoted with a smile. „And – wow, you know so much. And you write so well.“ „Thanks“, Armand smiled shily. Timmy flashed him a warm smile. When Armand rearranged the bunch of paper in his hands and searched for the next paragraph, Timmy asked:

„Can I stretch out a bit, would you mind?“ Armand shook his head, lost in his text, and was surprised when Timmy moved up quite close and put his head onto his lap without further questions. He turned onto his back, fiddled with the blanket around him and sighed:

„That‘s much better. Is this okay with you?“

Armand, amazed about his boldness, couldn‘t but shrug and added:

„Since you‘re here already… What can I say.“ He tried not to touch Timmy with his manuscript and continued to read on, smiling inwardly at Timmy‘s seemingly innocent boldness. He liked his head on his thighs. 

Timmy listened attentively. Once or twice, their eyes met, but otherwise, he just listened. He was a good listener. Turning to the last page, Armand interrupted himself and looked for a flat surface to mark alterations. Timmy patted his chest invitingly. Armand smirked, put the manuscript on him and crossed out two long paragraphs. He shoved the paper farther down on Timmy‘s stomach, dropped the pen and said:

„And here goes the paragraph about what I thought to be the supreme example of gender fluidity, cut on said example himself, because“ - Armand stopped himself and looked into Timmy‘s amused eyes - „I know you now. I changed my mind since knowing you better. And, mostly, my voice would falter if I showed this picture of you in Venice. I feel the need to protect you. Not to expose you anymore, even if the whole world went crazy over those photos.“ 

Timmy frowned but mumbled: „I was in your speech?“ 

„Yes. But not anymore. I know there‘ll be questions and I‘ll have to defend myself why I ignored the most recent developments, but I‘ll think of an answer.“ 

Timmy asked, obviously amazed: „But why – I mean, am I gender-fluid?“ 

Armand shook his head deliberately: „See, that‘s the point. You are not. But I didn‘t know before. I repeated what the whole world wanted to believe, based on some photos or stills of you when you were very young. You can have feminine vibes, you know? With your fine features and soft curls. And those lips.“ Armand almost lost himself while looking down on Timmy‘s pink mouth. Timmy watched him with large eyes. „But – you are older now. And you always had a dark voice. And now I know you have hair on your legs. And you even had a bit of facial hair when you came this morning. You might be oscillating a bit, especially since you are kind and warm and soft, but – I discovered you are definitely a man. And somehow, I find this very enticing. Much more than to style you into an icon of ambiguity.“ 

„Oscillating?“, Timmy repeated amused. 

„That‘s the term, sorry. I‘ll dwell on Tilda. She‘s already used to it. You are young and vulnerable and need to be protected.“ 

„I sense a clash of interests here that might be more harmful to your professional live than anything we might do in bed“, Timmy stated. „You are changing your speech in order to protect a public version of myself. I wouldn‘t know or feel it.“ 

„Do you want me to talk about you?“, Armand asked. 

„No, no. I love being your secret“, Timmy smirked. „But, you understand what I mean? You‘re not impartial anymore, and I heard that‘s a bad thing in science.“  
Armand shrugged: „Maybe I‘ll change my mind again until Friday. But right now, all I want is for you to be safe and unmolested.“

Timmy raised himself into a sitting position, put one hand on Armand‘s shoulder and came dangerously close with his face:

„Since your professional impartiality is badly damaged already and your reputation as a scholar might follow, you might consider giving up on your strict rules, don‘t you think?“

Armand laughed and tried to ward Timmy off. He avoided to look into his moist doe eyes, knowing he‘d be done for if he allowed his gaze to sink to the bottom of them. Timmy sighed audibly, but didn‘t move away. Armand felt his nose brushing his ear and soft hair touching his neck. To his amazement, Timmy slid nearer, hugged him for real and slowly let his head sink onto his shoulder. Out of reflex, Armand held him with one arm. Timmy settled into him more comfortably:

„I know I‘m invading royally now, but… could you please hold me? Just hold me, nothing else. I promise.“ He seemed to hold his breath and waited for Armand‘s response. Armand sighed, but started to stroke Timmy‘s back.

„Why? Timothée, you know...“

Timmy buried his face even closer at his collar-bone:

„I‘m confused. Everything seems to be falling apart, and suddenly, here you are. And I feel good and safe for the first time in, like, months. You are my anchor. If I‘m around you, everything is all right. Why is that?“ Timmy scrambled up and looked at Armand. Their faces were only inches apart. Timmy moved backwards deliberately, intent on making things not more difficult for Armand. He felt Armand‘s warm, large hand on his back and leaned back into it. Timmy closed his eyes and sighed.

„You go up to the lake, sit on the deck and ponder everything. I‘m always detangling wonderfully up there. Try it. You‘ll see more clearly then.“

Timmy snuggled back into Armand‘s arms. They stayed like that, silently, for some delicious minutes. But when Timmy searched for Armand‘s hand gently, Armand shook his head and started to push Timmy back onto the couch. Timmy complied, not without whispering into his ear:

„Students are not to sit on their teacher‘s lap?“

Armand shook his head.

„Not even on a Saturday night?“

„Especially not on a Saturday night.“

Timmy arranged himself next to Armand again, put one arm over the back of the sofa and looked at him sleepily. Armand almost couldn‘t take the delicate features and the softly glowing skin so close to him. This would be the perfect moment to – no. He caressed Timmy anyway, just very quickly, and asked:

„Time for bed?“

Timmy nodded.

Timmy solved the question of separate or shared bedrooms that had hung heavily between them by simply slipping into Armand‘s room and straight into his bed after he had brushed his teeth. Armand put his book down, looked at Timmy, laying on his side on the second pillow, and said as strictly as he could muster:

„No kiss. No sex. Is that clear?“

Timmy nodded. When Armand switched off the light, he felt a warm, soft body sidling up to his own one. Timmy‘s back touched his side. Armand stared at the ceiling, trying to control his breathing and hoped Timmy would move away again. But he snuggled even closer, with a tiny, content sigh. Armand was torn between getting angry and composing a short lecture about personal space again and being strangely compelled to feel Timmy‘s delicate figure under his hands. He gave in, eventually. He had been so good all evening long – an innocent embrace wouldn‘t do any harm. Slowly, he turned on his side and let a tentative hand wander over Timmy‘s hip. He drew it back like burnt when he realized Timmy‘s boxers were hitched up quite far and his hand touched bare skin. But Timmy caught his wavering fingers in his own warm ones and drew them over his stomach, pulling Armand over his back. Armand complied, moved closer and entangled their hands in front of Timmy‘s belly. Timmy sighed again, like a little kitten, and Armand felt a slender, soft leg crawl backwards between his feet. 

In his last waking moments, Armand‘s eyes met the still gleaming silver suit. Not even twenty-four hours ago, Timmy‘s graceful body had been enveloped by the silk. Now they were enveloped in each other. Armand couldn‘t tell which was more magical.


	11. A last kissing lesson

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Change of ratings - finally!! Thank you all for your patience!
> 
> André Aciman wrote a lovely piece about Straus Park in "Alibis". It's nostalgic and a bit melancholy. So - the boys just had to meet there!
> 
> I stole the breathtaking sentence about the last/first lesson from the 90ies film "Tous le matins du monde". A famous musician asks his former teacher for a last lesson and he replies "I will give you your first lesson" - after his former student knows seemingly everything, is accomplished, adored and a celebrity. This part kills me every time. So, this is the place where the real kissing starts ;-)

After their innocent but intimate night together, Armand and Timmy didn‘t meet for weeks. First, Timmy was at the lake and Armand in Europe. When Armand came back, Timmy started for an extended tour of Korea and Australia to promote „The King“, followed by almost daily appearances around the States and Canada to get fans excited about „Little Women“ before it‘s christmas premiere. When he was in New York for Thanksgiving, Armand was in California with his parents. 

But on his return from Kopenhagen, Armand was surprised to find a thick, long letter from Timmy in his mailbox. He apologized profusely for using one of the yellow pads Armand had stashed at the cabin, but he needed to tell him how glorious his quiet, solitary days at the lake were. The seclusion amid breathtaking scenery was exactly what he needed. He didn‘t miss the TV or anything else but loved Armand‘s desk overlooking the lake and unravelled his thoughts by writing profusely in his diary and now to him. He hadn‘t written a real letter in years and enjoyed the slowness of the process, the ability to come back the next day and continue, to read it over before sending it – everything was less hurried and rushed than his usual way of communication. He missed Armand. Still thought of the September night at his place. (When Armand read this part, a whole swarm of butterflies raised it‘s wings in his stomach. He still felt Timmy‘s warm, delicate body pressed against himself. The softness of his arms around him, when they had changed positions and Timmy had hugged him from behind. The faint citrussy smell of his soft curls. His lashes fanned out on his cheeks when Armand woke up before him and they faced each other, legs entangled, one of Timmy‘s hands on his waist, plush lips more inviting than ever.)

He responded on paper also, having had the presence of mind to intercept one of the christmas cards for clients Betsey had arranged on his desk ready to sign. He asked her for the envelope with Timmy‘s address and told her he would mail it himself. Discreet and loyal as ever, she didn‘t even raise an eyebrow at his request. 

Back home, in his study where he still sensed Timmy wrapped in the woollen blanket on the guest bed, he added a few sentences in the little space that was left. He told him he also remembered their September night. He restrained himself from adding: I could write a whole novel about what the memory of your body so close to mine does to me, be it in my office, in my bed where we lay together, or here in my study where you fell asleep behind me while I was writing. He leaned back and let his eyes wander about the view from his window in front of the desk – the backside of the buildings on the next street, rusty fireladders, a dozen of pigeons lifting themselves clumsily into the grey sky. When the birds disappeared into the misty twilight, he felt bereft like never before in his life. He missed Timmy. Bodily and painfully. He clicked the pen on his teeth, thought for a second and added deliberately: „Miss you.“

Leaning back again, he stretched his arms over his head. He noticed the growing twilight in his study and switched on the old Tiffany lamp on his table. A warm, golden glow lit the shadows in his room. The christmas card with his all too revealing message glowed under it. Armand thought about tearing it up and writing a neutral one. Suddenly, he felt restless. A stroll around the neighbourhood would do him good, despite the fog and the slowly sinking night.

All wrapped up in a coat, scarve and gloves, he wandered aimlessly around the streets until he found himself in Straus Park, one of his favourite haunts. His feet had taken him to the small, secluded park near his apartment without thinking. He liked to come here, but usually when the weather was fine and he could sit on one of the benches to do some reading. Today, the park was deserted. The trees were almost bare, the flowers long since gone, and apart from a few people walking their dogs there was not much traffic. How different everything looked in winter. Bare and frozen like his soul. Armand sensed a giant wave of self-pity and melancholy wash over him when he suddenly recognized a familiar figure slumping on one of the benches. Wild curls, long feet crossed, one flashy boot dangling over a skinny knee – he had hallucinations, certainly. Started to see Timmy everywhere. It had happened only last week, in a crowd crossing a street. Almost as if someone had died and you saw him walking in front of you. Just to make sure he walked casually closer and took a good look at the boy. He looked up at the same moment, leaped to his feet and cried incredulously: 

„Armand? What are you doing here?“

Armand couldn‘t believe his eyes, but it was Timmy, in all of his dorky, giddy glory. His face lit up and he stepped closer to open his arms for him.

„Timmy! What brings you to my part of the town?“

He scrutinized the floor anxiously, insecure what to answer and said finally: 

„Just – nothing. Coincidence. I guess.“

„Coincidence?“ 

„Yes. What else could bring us together in Manhattan by chance? Hey man, how are you?“

Timmy smiled, but his eyes seemed subdued and not as bright as usually.

„I‘m okay, but how are you? You seem – different?“

He shrugged his shoulders, smoothed his stylish knee-length coat and played for time:

„No, no, same as ever. Maybe a bit spent after all the promo, you know.“

„It‘s so good to see you“, Armand smiled and patted Timmy‘s arm again. Timmy looked at him askingly and finally said:

„You never answered my letter. Did you get it at all?“

„I did, I did! Thank you! I – actually I answered it just this afternoon. It‘s still in my study. Wanted to mail it tomorrow. I didn‘t do it earlier because I thought you were gone most of the time.“ Timmy‘s eyes were large and unreadable. „What‘s wrong with you?“, Armand asked again.

„I just thought – I was afraid I had overstepped boundaries again. In my letter, I mean. I thought you were mad at me for whatever reason.“

Armand felt guilty: „Oh my god, I‘m so sorry. Tim, my silence didn‘t mean anything. Really! I just guessed you were too busy to give a thought about our short fling.“ Armand tried a smile, but Timmy looked at him gravely. He finally said, very softly:

„It was more than a fling for me. And I thought you‘d know that.“ He looked hurt. Armand drew him into his arms, hugged him tightly and whispered into his curls:

„I missed you terribly. I missed you so much it hurt. And I didn‘t know what I‘d do if I saw you again. I was afraid of myself. And thought it best to – well, not to see you at all.“

Timmy stayed in his arms but raised his head: 

„You missed me? Really?“

Armand nodded and stroked a stray curl out of Timmy‘s forehead. Timmy‘s soft, full lips so close to his own made his ears rings. He graced them a last time with his eyes before caressing Timmy‘s cheek once more. They stayed silent while traffic and construction noises hummed in the background. Timmy continued:

„Because, you see – our encounter changed something in me. It‘s always strange to have finished a long project before the next one starts. I know you can crash, especially if the transition is bumpy. But now, it‘s more than a transition. I – I just don‘t know this feeling. I‘m confused. And miserable as hell, to be honest.“ Timmy avoided Armand‘s eyes and stuffed his hands in his pockets. Armand took one of them, gently, and held it, only to state surprised:

„Your hands are cold! How long have you been here?“

Timmy shrugged: „Long enough to lose the courage to hit you up.“

Armand drew him close again. Timmy swayed, but hid his face gratefully at his shoulder.

„Let‘s get you something warm to drink. Still into tea?“, Armand joked. Timmy nodded wordlessly and squeezed Armand‘s hand back.

Some minutes later, they were installed in a small, steamy coffee shop near the square. The smell of moist clothes mingled with the scent of fresh coffee. Chattering customers and the clinking of spoons on plates muffled their conversation. They sat rather cramped at one of the small tables. Armand couldn‘t avoid his knees touching Timmy‘s from the beginning, but when he tried to sit sideways, he felt Timmy‘s hand on one of his knees and saw him nodding. He stayed where he was. Timmy nudged his own leg even closer.

„So…?“, Armand asked.

Timmy took a deep breath before he asked softly:

„Are you seeing someone?“

„No!“, Armand answered, almost insulted. Timmy relaxed visibly, but his eyes remained anxious:

„So it‘s still the old teacher-client-whatever moral clause?“

Armand felt something crumble inside him. He had passed on so many opportunities already, offered on a silver tray, repeatedly. Fate would grow weary of him soon if he didn‘t accept his blessings. And suddenly, like a revelation, he knew: he‘d forget all moral integrity and professional standards. Timmy was ready to risk everything regarding his career. He would do the same. They‘d shoulder the consequences together. They‘s survive, somehow. Fuelled by a sudden clarity, he reached for Timmy‘s hands across the table, played with them gently and held them.

Timmy continued: „Because I can‘t forget our night together. Your tenderness. In words and deeds. Those hands...“ Timmy looked at their intertwined hands and stroked Armand‘s with a thumb. „I mean, even if nothing happened...“

„It was not nothing.“ Timmy looked up surprised. „And I can‘t forget this night either. You don‘t wanna know how many nights I fell asleep thinking and dreaming about you in my arms. Holding you. Listening to your breathing.“

Timmy‘s eyes grew large. They both were silent, but their hands suddenly got very warm. Timmy waited some seconds before he smiled shily and asked:

„Would you please give me one last kissing lesson?“

Armand nodded and said slowly:

„I‘ll give you your very first kissing lesson. Come on, let‘s go to my place.“

*

A few days later, Armand and Timmy rested in the tangled sheets of their bed. They had fallen asleep after some slow, languid afternoon sex. Weak shafts of winter sun graced one corner of the bedroom. They faced each other, gently stroking their naked bodies, when Timmy suddenly smiled mischievously. He scrambled up, drew Armand with him and announced ceremoniously: 

„And now I‘ll give YOU a kissing lesson.“ He tried to climb onto Armand‘s lap. Armand grinned, slid up and arranged himself against the headboard. He stretched out his long legs and Timmy straddled him gracefully. Armand steadied him with both hands on his waist, graced his narrow hips and looked at him expectantly. Timmy sat up straight in his lap and said:

„I‘ll tell you how he would like to be kissed.“ Timmy smiled with curled lips. He made a theatrical pause to be sure of Armand‘s attention before he started:

„Nowhere but on the mouth, then it sinks to the bottom of the heart.“ Timmy leaned in and kissed Armand long and soft, with closed lips. Armand moaned softly. The kiss took longer than a very first line of a poem deserved, but Armand didn‘t mind. He caressed Timmy‘s spine with his long fingers and kissed him back tenderly. 

„Not too freely, not to forced“ - Timmy demonstrated clumsy versions of Fleming‘s suggestions, lapping at Armand‘s chin and upper lips like a young puppy and then holding his face uncomfortably tight and pressing a square, dead-feeling kiss on his lips - „also not with lazy tongues.“ 

„Hmm. Love this part“, Armand sighed before he felt Timmy‘s lively, pliant tongue slipping between his lips. He steadied Timmy who had started to giggle on his lap and smoothed his hands over Timmy‘s creamy, hairless thighs before offering him his lips again. Timmy continued the demonstration of not too lazy tongues before he sat up again. 

“Not too little, not too much, or both will be just childish things.“ With raised eyebrows, Timmy placed a deliberate kiss on Armand‘s mouth and after some seconds another equally deliberate one. Armand nodded approvingly. 

„Not too loud“ - Timmy smacked his lips exaggeratedly - „and not too quiet“ - an almost inaudible little peck near his ear - „Both in measure is the right way.“ „Uhm, shit, what‘s next?“ Timmy interrupted himself. „You know all this by heart?“ Timmy shrugged: „That‘s my job. Here, look here: „Not too close, no too far, this brings sorrow, this one woe. Not too dry, not too moist, like Adonis gave to Venus.“ 

„I love it when you kiss me really moist“, Armand sighed and caressed Timmy‘s small butt. He could cover one of the tiny, soft cheeks with one of his hands completely. Timmy raised himself upwards and moaned. His cock began to twitch. 

„Don‘t distract me, there‘s still a lot of text“, he whispered with closed eyes. Armand cupped both of his soft cheeks in his hands and started to knead them gently. 

„Please, I need my blood in my head for reciting...“, Timmy grinned. But he sat back indulgently in Armand‘s large hands and whimpered loudly when one of his fingers graced his entrance. „What are you doing, your lesson isn‘t over yet...“ he complained, but he thrust his butt backwards anyway to open himself up for Armand‘s fingers. 

Armand repeated „Not too close, not too far“, while stroking Timmy‘s cleft and pressing gently over his soft entrance whenever he passed it. Timmy looked down at their cocks and grinned with raised eyebrows when he saw them almost touching. He slid closer and grind his cock deliberately into Armand‘s erection while he felt Armand‘s thumb on his entrance. „Yes, yes, yes...“ he whispered. Armand said: „I love how moist you still are“ and slowly pressed inside. „Not too moist?“, Timmy joked. „Never too moist“, Armand pushed inside and enjoyed the delicious tightness around his thumb. Timmy fell forward, buried his head on his shoulder and whispered: „Don‘t stop. Please. Don‘t stop.“

Timmy started to sprinkle his neck and shoulders with tiny biting kisses, stopping between them to moan softly and thrust himself back onto Armand‘s fingers. With a loud sigh and a velvety sweep of curls across Armand‘s face, he came up to gasp for air and muttered:

„You are not to finger your teacher when he‘s reciting baroque poetry to you...“ Armand felt Timmy clench around his thumb. He continued to push gently in and out of him and mocked him:

„Am I distracting you?“

Timmy nodded silently, head thrown back and eyes closed: „I prepared this lesson so carefully for you, and all you do is distracting me and making things difficult for me.“ His eyes sparkled when he looked at Armand. „You are a very naughty student indeed.“

„Who is naughty? Who made my life difficult?“, Armand mocked him. „May I remind you...“

„No, don‘t. Just go on with – whatever you did.“ Timmy crawled closer and took Armand‘s cock into his hand. Stroking him lightly, he leaned in for another long kiss. Armand slowly pulled his thumb out of him, cupped Timmy‘s ass again and gently pushed him backwards and off his lap. Before Timmy had a chance to protest, he rolled on top of him. Timmy opened his legs as if in a long-practiced dance movement and drew Armand closer. When they had finally rearranged themselves and tangled the bed even more, Armand licked over Timmy‘s delicate ear and whispered:

„And now I‘ll tell you how he‘d like to be fucked.“

Timmy whimpered and looked at him under lowered lashes. He raised his head hungrily for another sloppy kiss while Armand pulled his hips back to find Timmy‘s entrance. When he pushed in he continued with the poem:

„Not too slowly, not too fast,“ Timmy moaned loudly when he felt Armand‘s fullness stretching himself. He closed his eyes and threw his head back. Armand was mesmerised by his own sensations and Timmy‘s beauty under himself. He tried to go on with ragged breath:

„Not without variety in place...“

Those were the last lines he remembered. Timmy utterly abandoned himself, a moaning, writhing sensual creature beneath him. He had lifted his legs and crossed them behind Armand‘s back. His fingers clawed into his shoulders and he hugged him violently. He was already gone very far and Armand knew he‘d follow soon. Invading his heart and his soul, entering him from all possible angles and openings, they became one, forgetting the boundaries and limitations of their bodies, melting into each other in one endless, sensual kiss that stopped time and space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks SO MUCH for the tons of kudos, comments and love you showered me with! You are the best!!
> 
> Thanks for going with me on this trip. Just one short epilogue is left, but I wanted to tell you anyway that the subscription doesn't work obviously. I asked AO3 to look into this nine days ago, but I guess the volunteers just have a lot on their hands. So, please check back on your own, if you'd like!
> 
> I also started a tumblr, and if I ever understand how it works we could chat there also! https://kissinglessons.tumblr.com/


	12. Christmas at the cabin

When the sky turned a deep, luminous indigo early in the afternoon of the shortest day of the year, Timmy and Armand just woke up from a late nap in front of the crackling fireplace. They had build a bed on the floor on their first day at the cabin and had even spent some nights there, despite the large and comfy bedroom Timmy loved also. Twilight fell outside. The snow covered fields around the cabin radiated in a short, luminous sunset before the first stars appeared in the clear sky. Armand freed himself from Timmy and turned onto his back in order to watch the changing skies through one of the large windows. He stretched and sighed contentedly. How come they both needed that much sleep? 

When Timmy stirred, he moved back again. Timmy had his face to the fire. Armand wasn‘t sure if he was completely awake but he couldn‘t resist the delicate, naked shoulder glowing in the light of the fire. He started to sprinkle it with light, brushed kisses, covering as many of the freckles he knew so well by now with his lips. Timmy sighed and turned towards Armand. With closed eyes, he asked for a kiss by offering his lips upwards. Armand covered the warm, plush lips with his own. He felt Timmy‘s hands in his hair, dipped his lip half into Timmy‘s and started to caress his open lips with his tongue. Timmy tore at his hair gently, drew him even closer and opened his moist lips for him. He moved himself under Armand and kissed him languidly and slowly. Finally, Timmy let his hands slip onto Armand‘s shoulders and opened his eyes. He looked happy. Happy and satisfied, and utterly beautiful with the shadows of the fire dancing about his naked body. They smiled at each other and kissed once more, fondly and tenderly. Armand let his fingers roam over Timmy‘s shoulders, touched the clavicles he loved so much, kissed them and kissed his elegant, delicate neck. He knew Timmy‘s ticklish spots by now and got the reaction he had expected: a squirming, wriggling noodle under him. Timmy clawed into his back and gasped. Armand kissed him on his mouth again to calm him and smoothed his messy curls out of his face.

They spend the days before christmas together at the cabin and had carved out almost a week free of obligations. After christmas, the usual frenzy of the holidays, Timmy‘s birthday and New Year, not forgetting the „Little Women“ premiere, would render a leisurely, secret getaway impossible. They took advantage of the days before when everyone was busy preparing the holidays and nobody would miss them much. Even if it meant being buried under tons of snow up in Maine, and even more snow to expect. They had stocked up on groceries on their way to the cabin. Armand had supplied firewood to last the whole winter already during his summer vacation there. They had everything they needed and enjoyed lazy, relaxed days, doing nothing but sleeping, eating and making love in glorious solitude.

Timmy tried to stretch under him. Armand rolled off him and gave him room to raise his arms above his head. His whole long limbed naked body shone in the flickering light of the flames when he gave in to his urge to stretch like a cat in the sun. He groaned contentedly. His sharp hip bones protruded and painted shadows of their own. Armand‘s gaze fell on the hawk feather on the floor next to their makeshift bed – Timmy had found it back in fall when he was alone at the cabin and had teased and tickled him close to insanity before their last love-making. Before they fell asleep earlier. Armand grinned and took the feather. When Timmy lay back again with another satisfied moan, he lightly drew the feather over his flat stomach. Timmy hissed and opened his eyes wide. When their gaze met, Armand raised an eyebrow and let the feather wander deliberately over Timmy‘s hip bone. He sighed indulgently and whispered „Didn‘t know this feels so good...“. Armand responded: „You almost drove me crazy earlier with his thing“ and slowly pulled the feather upwards, over Timmy‘s tiny belly button, his rosy nipples and finally his favourite part: the sharp little clavicles. Timmy bent his head backwards and sighed loudly. When Armand started to caress the sides of his neck with the large feather, he felt Timmy‘s fingers on his arm. He drew him towards his mouth. Armand forgot the feather while their lips joined again in a seemingly endless kiss. Armand ended it with kisses on the cheeks, on Timmy‘s closed eyes and on his forehead before he whispered:

„Turn around.“

Timmy looked at him askingly and obviously amused, but complied after one more kiss.

„Just like – that.“ Armand stopped him when Timmy lay on his side, facing the fireplace. The silhouette of his body glowed golden with the light behind it. The smooth, silky skin of his back lay in dim light. Armand loved Timmy‘s delicate curves. Like long, gentle dunes. He painted the outline of the hills and valleys with the broad feather, starting from his sharp shoulder, enjoying the delicious slide down to his tiny waist and up again the even gentler hill of his hip. And down his lean, hairless thigh again, because there was no reason to stop there. He lightly tickled the back of Timmy‘s knee – he knew the thin skin there so well, knew how sensitive Timmy was to kisses on this soft spot – until Timmy moaned and squirmed. He drew the feather upwards again at the back of Timmy‘s thighs, caressed his beautiful small butt with it and, when Timmy sighed „Once more, please“, repeated the gesture with even more tiny brushes of the feather. Sweeping it over Timmy‘s soft cheeks, he drove upwards in the long valley of his spine, caressed his shoulders and leaned in to kiss his neck.

„I love your back. It‘s the most beautiful back I‘ve ever seen. You know that?“ 

Timmy turned to face him and kissed him. Armand let his hand roam over Timmy‘s delicate waist and graced his hipbone. He kissed him back, tenderly and slowly, and said:

„I‘ll never forget the fall night you came to my place. Remember? When I had to help you out of this silky little nothing?“

Timmy‘s lips curled at the ends:

„Of course I remember.“

„You almost drove me mad with this garment“, Armand groaned. Timmy pulled him closer. Their hips joined and started to undulate involuntarily in their very own rhythm. Armand pressed one of his long legs between Timmy‘s and searched for friction when he was interrupted:

„Wait. Wait!“ Timmy touched his head. Armand looked into sparkling eyes. „Wait a minute.“ Timmy scrambled up and rested on his raised elbows. „I‘ve got a present for you. Actually, your christmas present.“

„But...“ Armand asked. „Christmas is only in three days. And I don‘t have anything for you.“

„Doesn‘t matter“, Timmy kissed his shoulder. „I‘d like to give it to you anyway now. Because“ - he pursed his lips and tried to hide a grin - „I‘m part of the present. So to speak.“

Armand smiled expectantly, tousled Timmy‘s wild curls and asked: „Are you?“ Timmy nodded, his lips still pursed so invitingly that Armand couldn‘t resist one more kiss. Timmy pushed him away gently and got up in one graceful, elegant movement. He moved like a dancer when he crossed the room. „Back in a sec!“, he shouted over his shoulder. While he heard him rummaging in the bedroom, Armand got up and lighted several candles they had placed around the room. They had spent the last evenings exclusively with candles and the faint glow from the fireplace. His gaze swept over the snowed-in, white lake, barely visible in the last seconds of daylight when he heard Timmy coming back. Armand turned and was once again struck by the ethereal apparition: Timmy, glouriously naked, held something behind his back with both hands and stepped slowly closer, his delicate legs crossed, his face all smiles. Armand sat down on their mattress on the floor again. Timmy joined him, sitting back on his heels, his hands still behind his back. His upper body was erect and gracefully straight, his stretched thighs glowed like porcelain in the firelight. Armand fought the urge to touch and caress him. Timmy curled his lips once more and presented Armand with a flat, small dark blue box. There were silver stars on it and a black ribbon around it. No christmas colours, but something rather elegant and subdued. Like Timmy himself. 

„That‘s for me?“ he asked.

„Or for us“, Timmy shrugged his shoulders, trying to seem innocent but almost unable to hide a smirk.

„Thank you!“ Armand kissed him on one of his tiny nipples while he took the box. It was light. Felt almost empty. He raised his eyebrows in surprise and started to shake the box near his ear. Nothing. He joked: „No whiskey.“ Timmy shook his head. „No ice skates either.“ Timmy smiled and whispered: „Why don‘t you open it.“

Armand gently tucked at the ribbon and tore it open. When he opened the lid of the box, white wrapping tissue concealed the content. He looked at Timmy again who smiled expectantly. Armand felt around the thin paper until his fingers touched something silky. He smoothed the paper away and saw some silver fabric. No. It couldn‘t be – Armand drew in a breath and pulled the silk out of the box. Heavy, smooth layers of it ran through his fingers. Like water. Like moonlight. He couldn‘t recognize the shape but knew immediately what he held in his hands. „How...“, he gasped. Timmy patted his naked thighs triumphantly and tried his best to conceal his satisfaction with Armand‘s reaction. „How, I mean, where...“ „I got the suit. I can keep most of my clothes.“, Timmy smiled. „Wasn‘t sure about this one, but Haider wanted me to have it.“ Armand smiled also, unfolded the tiny garment completely and let it dangle from his fingers. The silk gleamed softly and promising in the candle light.

„You know you were a dream come true in this – thing. I still don‘t know the name for it.“

„Neither do I.“

„You haunted my dreams, do you know that? Almost drove me crazy...“, Armand confessed. Timmy moved his long legs under himself, arranged them on the side and slid nearer. He touched the silk himself and whispered:

„You don‘t know what crazy is until I show you what we‘re gonna do while I wear the – thing.“

„And nothing else?“, Armand asked. His mouth was terribly dry all of a sudden.

„Nothing else“, Timmy confirmed. 

Armand continued: „And I can do anything to you I want?“

Timmy hesitated and held his gaze for a few seconds before he answered: „Anything.“ He looked at Armand. His eyes were more than a promise. There was devotion and utter abandon in them. 

Timmy searched for the top of the garment, sorting the dangling ribbons and turning it around to find which side was up front. His lips gleamed dark pink in the light of the candles when he looked up: „Now, would you help me to get into this?“

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading and commenting! You are the greatest!!!
> 
> This was supposed to be the last chapter (I leave the rest of the night to your imagination), but looks as if I have to continue for a bit...
> 
> AO3 told me that the subscription really has a bug and they can't say when/ if ever it will be fixed. Would one of you lovely subscribers tell me if it works again, so I can take this note down? Otherwise, please stay tuned on your own!


	13. Peaches and apricots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CMBYN, page 35: "Of course, he had no idea what I'd been thinking minutes earlier, but the firm,rounded cheeks of the apricot with their dimple in the middle reminded me of how his body had stretched across the boughs of the trees with his tight, rounded ass echoing the color and shape of the fruit. Touching the apricot was like touching him. (...) It would never have occurred to him that in placing the apricot in my palm he was giving me his ass to hold or that, in biting the fruit, I was also biting into that part of his body that must have been fairer than the rest because it never apricated - and near it, if I dared to bite that far, his apricock."

One day before New Year‘s Eve, Armand had arranged to spend a morning with Betsey in his office. He relied on her to sort the receipts and travel expenses of a whole year and file everything in her computer, a chore he thoroughly despised. Without her, he‘d never get it done. 

He‘d left a sleepy, slightly grumpy and tousled Timmy in their bed. The only reaction he got when he brushed a light kiss on his shoulder and covered his naked figure with the sheets was a soft groan. Timmy cuddled deeper into the pillows and didn‘t even open his eyes. Armand smiled – what a little puppy.

Two hours later, when Betsey and he were in medias res together at his desk – every flat surface was covered with receipts, plane tickets, printed reservations and itineraries and Betsey typing away on his computer – his phone rang. He hadn‘t managed to keep the recent developments in his personal life from Betsey, also thanks to Timmy who liked to drop in unexpectedly and shower him with loud smacks in front of her, so he thought it safe to take the call in her presence. Probably Timmy just wanted to say hi as he knew they had a lot of work to cover today.

„Babe, what‘s up? Awake now?“

Timmy‘s voice sounded slurred and still sleepy when he answered:

„Where are you? I miss you. Miss your hot butt.“ He moaned seductively. Armand could literally see him there in their tangled sheets.

„Told you I‘m sorting things for tax. With Betsey“, he added, sensing that Timmy might transgress your usual quick wake-up call.

„But I need you here. Now. I miss you so much and I feel so… so… Oh, I can‘t tell you what I feel. And where.“ A new sigh, and then, languidly: „I just woke up. And my body aches for you. And you know which parts ache especially in the morning.“

„Right, Timmy, I told you. Did you forget?“

„Oh, yes, yes, please keep talking, I need to hear your voice while I‘m touching me. Your voice is so sexy, did I ever tell you?“

„Yeah, just a few hours. Should be back around two.“

„That‘s too late! I need you now! Do you know that I touch myself? I have to, because you are not here. Oh, that feels good… Thinking of you and touching myself...“ Timmy‘s voice trailed off in a soft whimper.

„Yes, around two“, Armand confirmed a tad too loud.

„Oh, you can‘t talk right now? Right? Oh – fuck, this feels good...“

„Exactly.“

„Doesn‘t matter, just say anything for me in your sexy voice cause I‘m getting closer...“

Armand started to get nervous and threw a quick glance to Betsey. She still sorted through some receipts and he said as chipper as he could muster:

„Brought you bagels from my run. Did you find them?“

Timmy moaned: „I love it if you bring me well-rounded things with a hole in the middle.“ A louder moan. “Yes. I love that. Tell me more about bagels. Because they remind me of that wonderful bubbly butt of you you paraded in front of me this morning.“

„I thought you slept?“

„Never if I get a chance to stare at your ass. Ah“ - Armand turned the phone away a bit from Betsey because Timmy moaned now lasciviously and louder than before - „Oh my god, yes, I‘ll stroke this bagel, stroke it‘s rim and imagine...“

„There‘s a raisin one for you.“

„Yeah, great, as sweet as your smooth, bubbly cheeks. Oh god, I want to touch them and knead them and pull them apart and...“

„No, we don‘t have any more peach jam. And it‘s definitley your fault. I saw you destroying the last of it.“

„Yes, let me lick you, all your sweet peachy parts… I want to touch your bulging peach with my hands and spread it while I lick all your soft sweet parts...“

„There should be some apricot jam in the pantry. Housekeeping 101: always buy doubles.“ Betsey nodded approvingly while keeping up a finger. Armand put his hand over his phone in order to muffle Timmy‘s moans while Betsey asked about a hotel receipt from Vienna, holding up the reservation:

„No receipt, I was invited. Sorry Timmy, where did I leave off?“

„You with the apricated peachy butt started to talk about apricots, and I‘m so damn close, don‘t leave me again, please...“ Armand imagined Timmy writhing and lolling around in bed and motioned to Betsey that he‘d continue his call outside in her office. He closed the door quickly, leaned into a shelve and lowered his voice:

„Timmy, you‘re driving me crazy. I‘m too old for stuff like that.“

Timmy‘s reaction made him wonder if he had listened at all:

„And if you bend forward, which I love, because your butt looks even more magnificent and rounder that way, I can see your beautiful round apricots dangling and bouncing, and your apricock, and I want to lick it and kiss it and nibble on it and tease it with my tongue...“

Now it was Armand‘s turn to moan softly. He felt his dick itch uncomfortably when Timmy groaned:

„Your precocious apricock, your big naughty wonderful apricock, your – aaaaargh!“

Armand clutched his phone in his sweaty hands and had trouble acommodating said apricock in his trousers. Timmy was silent but for occasional satisfied, deep gasps. Armand asked:

„You okay?“

Timmy breathed loudly and let out a ragged „Me okay.“ Armand grinned, threw a quick glance at his phone and stated:

„Two minutes forty. You‘re growing up, that‘s a good two minutes longer than some weeks ago.“ 

A loud, content moan was all he got from Timmy. Armand made a loud kissing noise through the phone. Timmy kissed him back.

„Listen, sweetie, you can‘t do that to me. Not when I‘m at work. Not after our sex marathon at the cabin. And after last night, if I may remind you...“ Timmy grunted. „What am I to do now? Can you imagine the state of my...“

„Apricock?“, Timmy supplied. He sighed: „Go to the bathroom and jerk off. I‘d suck you off, if I were with you, but...“

„Oh god“, Armand moaned. „You are the death of me.“

„Later“, Timmy‘s slurred voice was followed by a loud smack. Armand kissed him back, cut the line and tried desperately to adjust his pants. Meanwhile, Timmy let his phone slide out of his hand, pushed the moist sheets he had pressed against the mess between his legs to the side and buried his nose again in Armand‘s pillow. Those bagels could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is for you, Apricock101 - you know why... And with many thanks for alerting me of page 35!)


	14. The first kiss

„When did you first want to kiss me?“, Timmy asked one evening over dinner. Armand looked up from his plate of pasta. His fork hovered over it when he said matter-of-factly:

„When I saw you in the film. THE film, you know?“

„Really?“

„Of course“, Armand continued with a bite of pasta in the air. Before putting it into his mouth, he added: „The whole world wanted to kiss you.“

„Nonsense“, Timmy blushed. Armand nodded vigorously while chewing. Timmy asked again:

„Are you serious? You wanted it before you even met me?“

„Yep.“ Armand gathered some more spaghetti on his fork and asked: „How about you?“

„Mmmmh“, Timmy sighed. „I remember the moment exactly. It was about seven minutes into our first kissing lesson. When you took my empty coffee cup.“ 

„That was the first time you ever looked at me. After having finished sulking.“ Timmy nodded with a blissful smile. He had forgotten his food and looked at Armand dreamily.

„Do you want to say – you wanted me the first time you saw me?“

Timmy nodded again wordlessly.

„Aaaaw, baby...“ Armand got up, rounded the small oval table and kissed Timmy affectionately on the mouth. He tasted like red wine, tomatoes and garlic, as he himself, probably. Timmy got up, snaked into his arms and lengthened the kiss. They never got enough of each other, even after hundreds and possibly thousands of kisses over the last weeks. Armand bent Timmy backwards, slid his hands over his long, delicate back and kissed him deeper. They nearly toppled over and only when Timmy‘s hand almost landed in his plate of spaghetti, he gave Armand one more loud smack and suggested:

„Let‘s eat. It‘s delicious.“

„You are delicious...“ Armand played with his lips again and covered them with one more velvety kiss. Back on their chairs, Armand asked:

„Why do you want to know?“

Timmy tasted some spaghetti before answering with oily, glistening lips:

„It‘s just – you know, when people get asked how they met, when they knew they were right for each other, when was their first time and so on, we‘d have to tell about our first kiss that it was in the elevator of your apartment. And continued in the hallway, rushed and starved, still in thick winter clothes. And while kicking off heavy boots and so on. It‘s not – very romantic, isn‘t it?“

„You think so? I think it‘s the most romantic setting for a first kiss! Because we couldn‘t wait a second longer and were crazy for each other!“

„Yes, we were, weren‘t we?“ Armand felt Timmy‘s foot searching for his own. He covered it with his own feet. Timmy blew him one more kiss over the table. Armand went on:

„Besides, that‘s how it happened. You cannot rewrite history. And it‘s a lovely art deco elevator, and it takes an okay amount of time to go the fifth floor, so… This was our first kiss, and I loved it.“

„I do, too, of course“, Timmy was eager to admit. „It was a wonderful kiss. But, you know...“ He pursed his raspberry lips and cocked his head to the side. One of his feet wandered up Armand‘s leg. Armand raised his eyebrows. He knew his lover well enough by now that he sensed something coming. He asked:

„Where would you have preferred to have our first kiss?“

„In your office. Of course. I came there for kissing lessons and hoped for some, you know, more personal instruction once I got to know you better.“

„You didn‘t hide it“, Armand grinned. Timmy nodded gravely. Armand suddenly understood:

„You mean…?“

Timmy nodded with a sparkle in his emerald eyes. His lips curled upwards. He got up, smoothly slid onto Armand‘s lap and caressed the back of his head. Armand groaned and tried to have another bite of his pasta while making room for him. Timmy kissed his forehead and looked at him expectantly. Armand swallowed and asked:

„So you are into role plays now, is that it?“

Timmy nodded and grinned triumphantly: „Yeah… Let‘s re-enact this kiss, shall we?“ Armand laughed out loud, pulled his lithe lover flush to himself and squeezed him: „Whatever you want, you crazy little noodle.“

„Speaking of – can you microwave spaghetti?“ Timmy asked while getting up and pulling Armand with himself towards the bed room.

*

A few days later, they left a university dinner where Timmy had been Armand‘s plus one for the first time. He obviously was giddy due to the fact that the evening had passed very pleasantly – no paps around in this setting – and also due to some alcohol served with the delicious dinner. When they stepped out into the dark streets, gleaming with rain and mirroring the lights of shop windows and street lamps, he leapt in front of Armand, walked backwards and said:

„Can I have my first official kissing lesson now, Dr. Hammer?“

Armand grinned – he felt all warm inside too with the excellent whiskey they had had to finish off their meal - , gently slapped Timmy‘s shoulders and said:

„Of course you can, but let me remind you that night shifts have special rates.“

„Mmmh, I‘m sure it‘s very special to be in your office in the dark.“ Timmy quickly kissed him on the lips, groped for his hand between their thick coats and started to swing it. 

„Aren‘t you too tipsy for that? Will we have to do it later again because you mope around it wasn‘t the perfect first kiss – again?“

Timmy gave him a peck on the cheek and continued walking: „Let‘s give it a try.“

Armand‘s office building was almost dark and seemed deserted on a Friday night. He let himself in with a key. The lobby was lighted, but there was an unusual hush on the hallways. Not even any cleaning staff was around. They rode the elevator to his floor silently, grinning at each other, and crossed the dark hallway. Armand opened his door in the faint light of the emergency lights, held it open for Timmy and bent to switch on a small lamp on Betsey‘s desk. He locked the door from inside, hugged Timmy and took his coat off in one swift movement. Timmy raised his lips towards him and moaned.

„No. Not yet.“ Armand said. Timmy‘s eyes were large and surprised, but he obliged with a slight curl of his lips. Armand threw his own coat over Betsey‘s chair, followed by his scarf. The door to his large office stood open. He invited Timmy silently with a gesture of his hand into it. Timmy entered it slowly and almost hesitatingly. Armand asked:

„Lights?“ Timmy shook his head. Thousands of lights sparkled outside the large windows and illuminated the room softly. A shaft of yellow light from Betsey‘s desk grazed the floor.

Timmy took a few exploring steps into the room. He was so familiar with this space, yet everything seemed different, mysterious and exciting in the dim light. He said softly:

„So, this is where you work, Dr. Hammer.“ He already was in his role. Armand followed him, sat on his desk and shrugged his shoulders:

„I‘ve been here for five years now. I like the view, and it‘s very convenient to the subway.“

„I see.“ Timmy slowly paced the room, let his fingers glide over book shelves and the side of the polished desk and said from a dark corner: „I have to admit I‘m quite nervous, Dr. Hammer. I don‘t know what to expect. I mean, you and I all alone here, no one else in the building...“

„Oh, don‘t worry. You‘ll like it.“

Timmy frowned and came closer:

„You can‘t sound so seductive! Won‘t you play distanced and saintly as before?“

„No“, Armand groped for his waist. „Today I want to be as naughty as you were in your lessons. It‘s only fair.“ Timmy wriggled to free himself but Armand drew him only closer and kissed him.

„What are you doing! That‘s too rushed! Oh – you‘re not playing?“ Armand shook his head and smirked. Timmy couldn‘t but kiss him messily and giddily onto the mouth. He was his usual self again, but interrupted himself to say:

„So, we need a plan. You are naughty and I‘m the innocent victim, do you want to do this?“

„Oh, yes, please...“ Armand growled. „I‘ll ravage you. Take your innocence. Deprave you and corrupt you. Mould you into my helpless pleasure slave.“

„Oh, I see...“ Timmy interrupted amused. „Nice to meet your dark sides. Well, we can do this.“ He slowly twirled on one leg, patted the desk again and walked away from Armand. While looking out of the window, Armand heard his voice:

„I guess you know why I‘m here? My PR people think I can do better than on those devastating photos. I cannot tell you how embarrassed I feel about them. I know I‘m no good kisser, but at least I should know how to pretend it. I won‘t get any more job offers if...“

Armand had noiselessly slid up behind him, gently massaged his shoulder and said softly:

„I‘m sure you are a very good kisser. I‘m here to help you find it out.“

„Oh my god, Dr. Hammer – do you mean we are going to kiss in here? I rather expected some theoretical instruction?“ Timmy had turned in Armand‘s arms, eyed the fingers on his shoulder surprisedly and tried a puzzled, innocent look. He held it for two seconds until he broke down laughing:

„Wow, that was bad! Once more!“ He breathed in heavily, closed his eyes and tried again slower:

„Dr. Hammer, don‘t tell me you are going to kiss me in here?“

This time, it was Armand who spoilt the scene. He had pressed his lips together for as long as he could but broke out giggling. His eyes crinkled. Timmy frowned and said sternly:

„Concentrate, man! We don‘t have all night!“

Armand still grinned and gasped: „Sorry, babe, but… You with your large eyes and soft voice… It‘s just too good.“

„There was a time when I really was like that. Inexperienced and just – you know?“ Timmy sounded offended.

„I know, I know. I bet you were the sweetest virgin ever. It‘s just – I know this other version of you, and it‘s just too hilarious...“

„Grrr“, Timmy growled, hugged Armand hard and tried to climb him. They swayed and laughed. Tumbling closer to the desk, they kissed again with lips and tongues and everything. Breathless, they stared into each other‘s eyes. Armand smoothed the tousled curls out of Timmy‘s face, kissed him gently and said:

„Next take. That‘s the term, isn‘t it?“

Timmy nodded: „And action.“ He walked over to the book shelf, took out a random book and leaved through it in the faint grey light. He couldn‘t discern anything, but suddenly he stopped, came back to Armand and showed him a page:

„Oh, Dr. Hammer, what‘s this? Could you explain those things to me? I‘ve never seen anything like that.“

„Oh, that‘s, well, these are devices to enhance your pleasure during sex.“

„What?“, Timmy asked with astonished eyes. „How?“

Armand pressed his lips together quickly in order to stifle the next fit of laughter but managed to continue in his best lecturer-voice:

„See, you can insert them into various male or female body openings and get additional stimulation. Either when alone or in a playful situation with a partner.“

„You mean – there are people who do this?“ Timmy asked incredulously. Armand nodded sagely. „Did you ever try this?“, Timmy continued innocently. Armand raised his eyebrows in amusement. As he didn‘t get any answer, Timmy mused:

„But I cannot imagine how this should work. Isn‘t it terribly uncomfortable to have an object of this size in your...“ Timmy felt a demanding hand on his butt. Armand pressed into his side and started to massage his cheeks. Timmy leapt away:

„Dr. Hammer, please! That was quite...“ Timmy shook his head, still large-eyed, but he felt Armand‘s hand on his ass again:

„Everything is possible if you allow yourself enough time. For the pleasure to build“ - Timmy moaned and leaned slightly into the touch - „and for your body to open itself up. Because“ - Armand started to nibble on Timmy‘s ear - „the human body is remarkable. You might be able to take even larger objects.“ Timmy sighed loudly, turned and started to press his groin into Armand‘s thigh. They enjoyed each other‘s closeness for a few seconds until Timmy pulled away. Armand looked at him dazed and with large pupils. Timmy knew the look and almost smirked. Armand seemed gone even farther than himself. He drew him into his arms again, slipped one leg between Armand‘s and whispered:

„Just fuck me on your table, why don‘t you.“

„Mr. Chalamet!“

„No „Mr. Chalamet“, it‘s just you and me and I can‘t wait any longer.“

„No no no no no“, Armand gently held him at the shoulders and looked into his eyes. „We‘ll come to that. Eventually. But I wanted to show you how to kiss. Remember?“

He tenderly placed Timmy in front of him, pressed him against the desk and told him in his richest, darkest voice not to do anything first unless he told him.

„And let your lips rest on each other. Don‘t open your mouth yet.“

Armand gently caressed first his upper lip, then the plush pink pendant with one finger. Timmy held still and looked straight into his eyes. His own ones shimmered in the faint light and he relaxed into Armand‘s embrace.

„I‘ll tell you how to kiss. Start with just a soft but not too short touching of your partner‘s closed lips.“ Armand looked at him again. The air between them seemed to quiver before he finally leaned in and gently pressed his lips on Timmy‘s warm mouth. Timmy moaned instantly. Armand gripped him harder and almost shook him as he feared Timmy might go over board too soon, but the noise seemed to stem from true unmasked pleasure. After some seconds, Armand started to nibble on Timmy‘s lips, played with them with his own ones and tenderly tried to open them with his. When he let a sliver of his tongue run over Timmy‘s closed mouth, Timmy jerked slightly, leaned closer into him and pressed his groin against his. 

„Easy, easy...“, Armand whispered. Timmy sighed with half opened lips. His eyes were closed. Armand felt small, firm hands on his back when he tentatively slipped his tongue between the soft lips he knew so well by now. It was new and exciting, but familiar as his own mouth at the same time. Everything seemed new and familiar: he knew Timmy‘s svelte, skinny figure so well, knew all the nooks and sharp bones and soft spots after weeks of worshipping his beautiful body. He was amazed at how fast his heart started to beat because they had decided to kiss. For the thousandth time or even more. The kiss was cocooned in layers and memories of the many kisses they had shared, and still it seemed like the first kiss of mankind. Armand had a sense of new beginnings, of entering a mystery, of transforming both of them into something transcendental. He opened his lips hungrily, slipped his tongue deep into the velvety warmth of Timmy‘s mouth and let himself go. Timmy swayed in his arms, groped for his back and moaned again. Armand opened his eyes only to see the fan of Timmy‘s lashes grazing his cheeks. Otherwise, his eyes were closed and he seemed lost in the kiss. He bent him backwards even more and kissed him deeply and hungily. Timmy hopped onto the desk, pulled Armand with himself and slung one leg around Armand‘s. He breathed loudly. Armand held him with one large, strong hand in his back and started to kiss Timmy‘s cheeks, forehead, the sides of his neck before he found his mouth again. Timmy was in rapture, writhed and undulated on the desk while still clinging to Armand. Armand couldn‘t avoid a grin when he saw the sensual mess under himself. He stopped everything for a few seconds and got the desired result: Timmy opened his eyes but seemed gone very far.

„Are you still acting?“, Armand asked.

Timmy shook his head with half-closed eyes: „No. Kissing you for the first time. Don‘t stop now, please, don‘t...“

He raised his head hungrily for Armand‘s lips and pulled him over himself until he was laying flat on the desk. Armand kissed him, groped for the legs around him and clumsily took off his boots while still trying to continue the kiss. Timmy sighed and crossed his newly freed legs behind Armand‘s back. They kissed even more deeply. Armand rested on his elbows, his face directly over Timmy‘s and asked:

„You really want us to make love here?“

He heard their combined ragged breaths. Timmy nodded violently, his curls making the softest scratching noise on some paper on his desk, before he pulled Armand down again into a languid, slow and interminable kiss.

*

Later, when Armand rested his head on Timmy‘s naked, heaving chest and listened to his slowly calming heart beat, he knew: he would remember everything. In dull hours at his desk, in not so dull moments when riding the subway or taking a bath, he would remember Timmy draped naked over his desk, gleaming as if Bernini himself had sculpted him from the finest marble. His head almost fell off the edge of the desk, the curls dangled loosely where Armand‘s lap would be if he sat at the desk. If he sat there, he‘d see Timmy‘s beautiful face and throat upside down. The minuscule, raspberry perks of his adorable nipples, his hollow pale stomach and the sharp protruding hipbones which he liked to kiss so much. His creamy thighs… Armand traced a fine line of sweat from Timmy‘s chest over his stomach and ended it‘s short life with a warm, sucking kiss. Timmy, still breathing heavily, moaned contentedly and darkly. He felt his hands in his hair and laid his head back onto his stomach. He‘d remember everything.

*

Much later, after they had returned through the hushed city, shivering under their coats from the moist, rainy night and huddling close together, they seeked each other‘s warmth under the covers of their bed. It had gotten late, much later than expected, and they both were sleepy. Armand asked anyway, stroking Timmy‘s fine silhouette with warm loving hands:

„So, are you happy with this first kiss? Can we take the second take?“

Timmy pursed his lips, caressed Armand‘s shoulder and said deliberately. „No.“

„No? We have to do it again?“, Armand asked amused.

„No. We‘ll have the first take. Because it was perfect in it‘s way. Besides, you cannot re-write history. You said so yourself.“

„I thought the elevator was too sordid and cheap for my prince?“

„Well“, Timmy smirked and massaged Armand‘s shoulder in slow circles, „we could omit the fact that it was in an elevator. But I‘ll tell everyone who wants to listen that when you kissed me for the first time I started to float a few feet above the ground. And I was elevated and gliding between earth and heaven, weightless, oblivious of everything around us, cocooned in the warmth of your mouth, envelopped by your love...“

„I see, I see. You just need the romantic version. Embellishment of history.“

„Well, yes, I guess so. Could you live with it?“

Armand nodded sleepily but replied: „I‘ll stick to the kiss in the elevator. Impatient, starved. Hungry hands under thick coats. Almost forgetting to get out when the door pinged. Tumbling into my hallway with my hands on your hot skin under your shirt.“

„Doesn‘t sound too bad if you tell it your way...“, Timmy answered drowsily while settling himself in Armand‘s arms and into the perfect spot he had found on his shoulder. He felt one last warm kiss on his forehead before he closed his eyes, wrapped in love, warmth and the familiar scent of their home.


End file.
